


The Size Of One’s Will

by Mollygail



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollygail/pseuds/Mollygail
Summary: An AU story about Neal's reaction to Peter's decision to assign him a new handler. The title comes from a quote from an unknown source: It is the size of one’s will which determines success.
Comments: 149
Kudos: 109





	1. The Right Thing or a Huge Mistake?

There were several moments in the last few days when Neal had wondered if he had made the right decision. He had pressed on through those doubts and now, as he heard the cell door slam behind him, he knew it was too late to change his mind even if he wanted to. 

He sighed with resignation and turned his attention to practical matters. He walked a few steps to the bed and picked up the folded sheets that were laying on top of the thin mattress. He made the bed as neatly as he could and then sat down on it. 

There had been good times and bad over the last three years and he had fooled himself into believing that the agents he worked with at the FBI were his friends. After Peter had found out about the crimes Neal had committed to clear Peter of murder, things had changed between them. He could still hear Peter’s voice when he closed his eyes. ‘You’re a criminal and you need a handler who will see you for what you are.’ 

Neal’s mind had been made up that day. He knew he needed to give up his deal with the feds and finish his sentence in prison. The only difficulty had been what to do about Hagen’s blackmail evidence. Well, as Peter had pointed out, Neal was a criminal; he did what criminals do. Being on house arrest had been a complication, sure. But, criminals knew criminals, right? He and Alex had had their disagreements in the past but when he needed her she came through by helping Mozzie steal Hagen’s evidence. 

Once the Hagen situation was taken care of he had gone over Peter’s head and contacted Bancroft. Arrangements were made and Neal was assured that he would be placed in a protective custody unit in a prison facility halfway across the country. 

Just ten hours ago he had stood in his apartment at June’s and been handcuffed by the marshals. It had been a long day filled with being hand-cuffed, then transported and entered into the system. He’d been strip-searched twice and shackled for hours during transportation to Terre Haute, Indiana. He was tired; his body ached from the hours of being shackled; he was hungry and depressed. The strategy that he’d worked out to survive the next eight months could wait until tomorrow. Right now he just needed sleep. He stretched out on the bed and was asleep almost immediately.

******************

“Oh, Hon, how could you let this happen? Why didn’t you stop him?” El’s expression held accusation and disappointment as she looked at her husband sitting slumped in his chair.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “Since when do you think I’ve had any control over Neal Caffrey. He went over my head, El. I didn’t know anything about it until the marshals handed me the paperwork, and by then he was already in their custody and on his way to prison. He never said a word to me about it.”

“But, Peter, he’s an informant; he’ll have a target on his back. They might even kill him.”

Peter sprang up from his chair and started pacing the room. “You think I don’t know that,” he snapped at her. “This was his choice, El. I can’t do anything about it now. This is just like him to do something impulsively without thinking of the consequences. I knew he was mad at me but I thought it would blow over like it always does.”

“Why was he mad at you?” This was the first El had heard about a rift between the two men.

Peter sighed and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. He’d need it if he was going to tell El about what he’d said to Neal. El followed him and sat at the kitchen table waiting for an explanation.

“Peter, tell me what happened.”

He sat down at the table and stared at his beer before taking a long swig. “I told him I was going to get him a new handler; someone who would see him for what he is. When I confronted him about stealing the gold he said he did it for me and I told him he did it because he’s a criminal and he always would be.”

“Oh, Peter, how could you say that to him? He did do it for you. Clinton and Diana had tried desperately to find a way to get the charges against you dropped but they failed. Neal had to do what he did to make things right.”

“El, he broke the law. He stole the gold, forged his father’s confession, and bribed a judge.”

“Maybe he was afraid he’d go back to prison if you were indicted for murder and lost your job. Even if you were cleared of the murder charges an indictment would have ended your career. He wouldn’t have had a handler and would have gone back to prison, right?”

“No, of course not. Bancroft wouldn’t have let that happen; he has a soft spot for Neal.”

“If he didn’t have to worry about going back to prison then why do you think he did those things? He did it because he wanted to help you. He did it because…” Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes and the look she gave her husband could only be described as guilty.

“Why, El? Why do you think he did it?”

“Because I asked him to. I told him to do whatever he had to do to clear you. I told him it was his fault that you were in prison.” Tears streamed down her face as she made her confession. “Peter, he was our friend and I treated him like a criminal. It’s my fault he asked to go back to prison.”

Peter took another swig of his beer and then leaned forward with his arms resting on the table. “It sounds like we both contributed to the situation and we all have to live with it.”

“Can’t you go see him and fix this?”

“No, he requested the end of his agreement with the FBI. It’s not likely they’ll want to take him on again this time. Besides that, he’s been sent to a prison in Indiana. They thought he’d be safer there, but that means it will be harder to visit.”

“What are we going to do?”

“At this point, I don’t think there is anything we can do, El.”

“I know it would be a long trip, but can’t we go see him?”

Peter looked into his wife’s tear-filled eyes and nodded. “Ok, I’ll look into getting on his visitor’s list. We’ll take a long weekend and go see him.”

“Thanks, Hon.” She reached across the table to take hold of his hand for reassurance. 

*******************

The first morning of his life in the Special Housing Unit brought a renewed sense of determination for Neal. He knew the risks before he requested to be sent back to prison. The UN considered solitary confinement to be a form of torture for a good reason. There was a very real risk of mental illness for people who were deprived of human interaction for extended periods. 

Neal had planned ahead as much as he could. June would be ordering books to be delivered from Amazon as soon as she had his address and prisoner number. Until he received the books from June the only reading material he would have would be a bible given to him during processing. June had also promised to make sure he always had money in his account so he could order things from the commissary. 

Neal’s attention was drawn to noises in the corridor outside his cell. A small panel opened in the door and a food tray was shoved through the slot. He quickly got up to take the tray and the panel was closed again. He carried the tray over to the bed and sat down. 

His breakfast consisted of runny oatmeal, cold scrambled eggs, burnt toast, and a cup of weak coffee. He ate all of it without letting his thoughts drift to meals he’d eaten in better days. Live in the moment and accept reality; that’s how he planned to live for the next eight months. He’d read a quote once that came to his mind now: It is the size of one’s will which determines success. He was sure he could get through this.

After he finished his breakfast Neal read for what he estimated was an hour. As he closed the book he made a mental note to remember to request a cheap watch on his commissary order. During his processing, he had learned that the commissary day for his cell block was Wednesday, which was tomorrow. He hoped that June didn’t have any trouble putting money into his account. 

Thinking of June made him homesick and he was tempted to lay down on the bed and take a nap just so he could forget for a while. He forced himself to begin his workout routine knowing that if he napped during the day he would lay awake at night. He worked his way through the hand-balancing skills that he had learned years ago from a former circus performer. From a two-handed handstand, he moved into a one-handed stand, extending his legs into a split. He then lowered himself down until his arm was bent and his body was horizontal. As the workout progressed he raised and lowered himself into various positions to maintain his strength, flexibility, and balance skills. Or as Peter would refer to them; his cat-burglar skills. 

After his ‘cat-burglar’ workout he began pacing in his cell. He knew that he averaged two-thousand-one-hundred steps per mile. He was half-way through his second mile of pacing when a panel in the door slid open and his name was called out. “Caffrey, you have a meeting with the unit team. Put your hands through the slot.”

Neal complied and the guard put handcuffs on him. 

“Step away from the door and face the back wall. Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.” 

Again, Neal complied and two guards entered his cell. One guard performed a pat-down while the other stood by ready to intervene if Neal tried to cause trouble. A chain was placed around his waist and when he was instructed to turn around the handcuffs were attached to the chain. Thankfully they didn’t put leg-irons on him. He followed the lead guard while the other walked behind him to make sure he didn’t try anything. Neal complied with every instruction. He had no interest in causing trouble and having the crap beat out of him. He just wanted to serve his time peacefully and earn his freedom.

Neal was led into a small conference area in the unit office and he sat where he was told to sit. The unit manager introduced the members of the team and then opened a file on the table in front of him.

“Mr. Caffrey,” the manager began speaking while still looking at the file contents, then he looked up directly at Neal. “As you are no doubt aware, we are required to meet with an inmate within twenty-eight days of their arrival. Normally one of the purposes of the meeting is to determine your status and assign you to a unit. However, you came here already classified as needing administrative segregation. Your records indicate that you are a non-violent white-collar criminal. I’m a busy man and I haven’t had time to read through your file yet. Perhaps you could give me a summary.”

“Yes, sir. I was convicted of bond forgery and sentenced to four years. A few months before the end of my sentence I escaped and, when I was caught, they sentenced me to another four years.”

“What sort of trouble did you get into that caused you to be transferred here and placed in Ad-seg?”

“A few months into my second sentence I was released into the custody of the FBI and I worked as a confidential informant in the White Collar Unit. Recently the circumstances of my work situation changed and I decided to finish my sentence in prison.”

“So, you were a snitch and you got tired of it. Is that right?”

Neal maintained eye contact and didn’t allow himself to show an emotional reaction to the question. “Yes, I was a snitch.”

At that point, the counselor asked a question. “How did you feel about being a snitch?”

“I think I was a valuable member of their team. Their closure rate improved considerably while I was with them. I worked undercover on several occasions and I helped them close a lot of cases. I even saved a few lives. I’m proud of the work I did there.”

“But then why did you elect to return to prison where your life could be in danger?”

“It’s…complicated, and it’s a long story.”

“I’ve never met anyone who’s life isn’t complicated, Mr. Caffrey. We’d like to hear your reasons for returning to prison.”

“Okay. My father was a cop. When I was just under three years old he went away and my mother told me he died a hero. We went into witness protection and, as I grew up, I was told the reason was that the people who killed my father might come after us. I learned the truth when I was eighteen; my father was a crooked cop who murdered a superior officer and then turned state’s evidence. Recently, my father contacted me and things didn’t go well. He framed my FBI handler for murder. Agent Burke was eventually cleared of the charges and released from prison but it damaged our relationship. He wanted to turn me over to a new handler and I wasn’t willing to work for anyone else. So, here I am. I just want to finish my sentence and earn my freedom so I can move on with my life.”

The corners of the counselor’s mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Okay, I guess that is a bit more complicated than the average story we hear. Let me ask you this: do you regret the crimes you committed?”

“When I started committing crimes I figured I wasn’t hurting anyone, you know? I stole from people who could afford to take a loss. But…working with the FBI I’ve seen things from the victim’s point of view and I realize now that I did hurt people. I violated their trust and took advantage of innocent people. Yeah, I do regret the things I’ve done.”

The man who had been introduced as his case manager asked, “What are your plans for the future? Have you thought about how you’re going to earn a living after you’re released?” 

Neal looked at his case manager with a slightly confused look and shook his head. “I haven’t really thought much about that. Until the last week or two, I thought I’d probably keep working for the FBI as a consultant after I finished my sentence. I guess…I don’t know. I own a bakery that I bought a few years ago as an investment. I guess I could become more involved with that.”

“That sounds like it might be a good plan. You have your GED, right?”

“Yes. I got my GED the first year I was in prison.”

“Good. Do you have any questions for any of us?”

“A friend was going to put money into my account. Do you know if that has happened yet?”

The unit secretary shifted through some paperwork and nodded. “Yes, you should have enough for a month. You were given a commissary list and your monthly budget, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

The unit manager closed the file in front of him. “Do you have any other questions?” Neal shook his head. “Okay. For now, you will remain alone in your cell, however, it is a two-man cell and it may become necessary for us to give you a cellmate. We do have instructions to run a check with the FBI to make sure there is no obvious danger to you. Do you understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, we’re done here then. Good luck to you Mr. Caffrey.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Neal was escorted back to his cell and the restraints were removed. He sighed in relief when the cell door closed. He walked over to the small table that was bolted to the wall and sat in the chair that was bolted to the floor. The list of items available from the commissary wasn’t extensive but in prison, you learned to appreciate any small comfort you could get. He began to look over the commissary list again to plan his order.

********************

“When can we go visit Neal?” El greeted Peter with the question as soon as he walked in his front door. He had low expectations for a quiet evening at home.

“We can’t.” He took his coat off and hung it up on the coat rack. “Prisoners are required to fill out paperwork listing any visitors they would like to have. Neal waved his right to visitation. He specifically stated that he would refuse all visitor requests. There’s nothing we can do.” Peter sat down on the couch with a defeated demeanor. 

“What about mail? Can I write to him? I’d like to send him a letter and apologize for the way I treated him.”

Peter just stared at his wife for a moment. “El. Think about that for a minute. His mail will be read before he ever sees it. I understand that you want to apologize to him but think about it carefully before you send a letter. Right now he is just finishing his sentence for his previous conviction. No one knows about gold theft and the forged confession. If you implicate him in those other crimes they could investigate and it would be bad for all of us.”

“What can we do, Peter?”

“I don’t think there’s much we can do, El. We can contact June and ask her to keep us informed if she hears anything. I’m not sure how much Neal might have told her about what happened between us recently. She might not be happy to hear from us.”

“We have to try, Peter.”

“I’ll go see her tomorrow. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to finish writing this story before posting it but I'm having motivational problems. I would appreciate any comments you would like to make. Compliments and constructive criticism are both welcome.  
> If you're curious about Neal's 'cat-burglar' workout go to Youtube and search 'hand balancing'.


	2. We Have Seen Better Days - Shakespeare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal begins to settle into prison life. Peter is questioned about why Neal went back to prison.

Mozzie had made Neal promise before he returned to prison that he would develop a daily routine and stick to it. He would not let himself lay around thinking about the past and what could have been. Mozzie had been right to be concerned; it was tempting to wallow in self-pity. 

Neal sighed as he sat at the small table and filled out his commissary order. He went through the list and wrote in the amount of each item he wanted and then double-checked to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He was only allowed to order once a week and this first order was the most important. He added the cost of the items to make sure he wasn’t spending too much. The prison only allowed him to spend three-hundred-twenty dollars a month and he wanted to budget accordingly.

He triple-checked the list: 10 stamps, 1 tablet of writing paper, 1 box of envelopes, 2 pens, 1 cheap watch, 7 raisin bagels, 1 jar of creamy peanut butter, 1 deck of playing cards…

He made sure to get a toothbrush and toothpaste along with shampoo and conditioner. Soap, antacid, Pepto Bismol, generic Advil…Charmain toilet paper, definitely don’t want to forget that. He tapped his pen on the list as he thought about what else he would need…Ramen noodles and corn chips…bottled water and tea bags…Rubbermaid bowl, a plastic utensil set, and dish soap. 

He’d left June plenty of money to keep him funded for the next eight months. All she had to do was wire the funds to his prison account. She’d been through this before with her husband and she understood how important it was to be able to buy what few luxuries he was allowed. He’d write and thank her as soon as he got the paper and stamps. 

Of all the people he’d known in his life, June was one of the most steadfast and true. Her love didn’t change with his ability (or inability) to meet her needs. Only Ellen had equaled June’s faithfulness and unconditional love.

Neal sighed as he thought about Ellen. She had loved and cared for him in a way his own mother never had and yet Neal had let her down. When she told him the truth about James he had run away from home and lost contact with her. Then, later on, when he found her again he’d sent her the Rafael and made her an unwitting accomplice to a crime. Retrieving the painting from her had drawn the attention of the feds and led to her death. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive himself for the role he played in her death. The only thing he could do to honor her memory would be to put his criminal ways behind him and make something good of his life. What that good thing was he hadn’t figured out yet. 

Noises out in the corridor indicated that lunch was being served. He waited by the door for the slot to open and felt like a rat in a cage waiting to be fed. He took his tray and sat down at the table to eat. The processed chicken in his sandwich reminded him of a Wendy’s commercial from when he was a little kid. He examined the meat in his sandwich while the script from the commercial ran through his head. The guy behind the counter of a generic burger place had explained to the customer: ‘As I hear tell all the parts are crammed into one big part. Fused. Then the one big part is cut up into little pieces parts. And parts is parts.’ At the time little Neal had thought it was hysterically funny. Now he wrinkled his nose and covered the ‘meat’ with wilted lettuce and a sliced tomato that was so green it should have been breaded and fried. He squirted on some salad dressing from the little plastic packet and put the top piece of the bun on. He really wished he already had the Pepto Bismol to treat the diarrhea he knew he’d get after his first day of prison food. 

He sighed and looked at his commissary order again. Better add pine-scented air freshener…Hmm, racket balls? Cool, he could use them to practice his juggling. 

*************************

Peter arrived to work early on Wednesday. He wondered how long it would take him to adjust to a schedule that didn’t include picking Neal up on his way to work. How long would it take him to stop comparing every day to the way things were when Neal worked with him? He poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred in some cream and sugar. 

“Hey, Boss. Can we talk?” Diana stood in the classic pregnant-woman pose with her hands resting on her baby bump while she eyed his coffee with longing.

“Sure, Diana. Come on up to my office…unless you’d rather talk down here. We could talk at your desk.”

“I can make it up the stairs”, she said as she tried to remember not to snap at her boss. “I’m pregnant, not handicapped.”

Peter smiled at her and nodded. “Okay, let’s go to my office.”

They entered his office and Peter set his coffee on his desk, took off his coat, and sat down while Diana eased herself into the chair in front of him.

“What’s on your mind, Diana?”

“Caffrey.”

Peter took a sip of coffee to cover his reaction. He set his cup down and shifted a few papers on his desk. “What about him?” 

“The rumor is that he asked to go back to prison to finish his sentence, but that can’t be right. What’s the real story, boss?”

“The real story is that Caffrey asked to be returned to prison to finish his sentence. He didn’t discuss it with me so I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more than that. If that’s all you wanted to talk about then I suggest we get on with our work.” 

“Right. Sorry to bother you.” Diana got up from her chair a little clumsily; partly because of her pregnancy but mainly because she was shocked by Peter’s attitude as he told her of Neal’s return to prison. Neal had worked as hard as the rest of the team trying to find James. Obviously there was more to this than Peter was letting on.

Jones made his way to her desk as soon as she sat down. He placed a file in front of her and leaned down over her shoulder acting as though he was pointing something out to her in the file. “What did you find out?” he mumbled quietly in her ear.

“Caffrey ended his deal without telling Peter,” Diana mumbled back. “And why did I have to go ask him? You’re the acting S.S.A; Peter’s right-hand man. You should have asked him.”

“Nooo, not me. I learned a long time ago not to get between those two when they have a disagreement. They’re kind of like brothers, ya know? If either of them thinks you’re taking sides they’ll remember it when they make up.”

“So you threw me under the bus?”

“You’ll be going on maternity leave soon and they’ll forget it before you return to work. Anyway, it looks like Caffrey won’t be coming back. I can’t say I’m happy about that happening at the same time you’re going on leave. Here I am taking over as acting S.S.A and our closure rate is going to take a hit. It’s gonna make me look bad.”

“Maybe you can recruit Mozzie as your C.I.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Diana. I’d quit the FBI and get a job as a Walmart greeter before I’d voluntarily work with Mozzie.” Jones stepped away from Diana’s desk and loudly announced there would be a meeting in the conference room in thirty minutes. As he walked away, Jones really wished they could have Neal’s help with the Little Star investigation. 

Peter had watched Jones as he talked to Diana. He wasn’t fooled by the file Jones pretended to be showing her. He knew they were talking about the Neal situation. Peter sighed in frustration and rubbed the back of his neck. He then leaned back and spun his chair around to stare out the window. Maybe he should retire. He was getting close to eligible retirement age. He just didn’t know if that’s what he wanted anymore.

He didn’t feel good about the way he’d handled this situation with Neal. He was free because of Neal’s disregard for the law. What did it say about Peter that a man he had considered a friend chose to return to prison rather than continue working with him? But they wouldn’t have been working together. Peter made sure that Neal knew he was just a criminal and needed a handler who wouldn’t forget that. Neal didn’t give up his position at the FBI until Peter gave up on him. 

Peter turned back to his computer and started searching for a career website. Maybe it was time to move into the private sector. He could earn more money and work fewer hours. It wouldn’t hurt to check out his options.

*********************

The slot in Neal’s cell door opened with a bang and was followed by shouting from the guard. “Caffrey, stand up, hands against the wall.” When he has assumed the position the cell door opened and two boxes were pushed through. The door slammed shut and the guard spoke to him again through the slot. “There’s a severe thunderstorm warning, so you won’t be able to have any yard time today.” The slot was slammed shut and Neal turned and stepped away from the wall.

“That’s okay, I understand,” he mumbled to himself sarcastically. He stepped away from the wall and started unpacking the boxes of items from the commissary. He organized his cell as best he could and then took the pens and writing paper to the table. He opened a Hershey bar and popped a piece into his mouth. 

_‘Dear June,_  
_I want to thank you again for all the support and love you have given me over the past few years. I truly don’t know how I would have survived if you hadn’t rescued me from that flea-infested motel the feds put me in. Seriously, I think it was crawling with more bugs than I ever saw in prison._  
_I know you understand why I had to do this and that means so much to me. Dante thinks I’m crazy, but you know that it was time for me to take control by deciding who is controlling me. At least in prison, I know the rules and the rules don’t change from one day to the next depending on someone’s mood._  
_Your help is so much more than I deserve and I will never forget your kindness and generosity. If you could have the books sent soon I would appreciate that immensely. I’m allowed to have five paperback books at one time as well as three magazines. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble would you please choose three magazine subscriptions to be sent to me. You know the sort of things I like to read but if you need some suggestions you can ask Dante. Just don’t let him talk you into sending any conspiracy journals._  
_Thinking of Dante; perhaps it would be a good idea for you to limit his access to my wine collection. Tell him I’m doing ok when you see him._  
_All my love to you._  
_XOXO, Neal’_

He folded the letter and tucked it into the envelope but left the envelope unsealed. It would have to be read by prison officials before it was mailed. 

Neal got up from the table and grabbed the racket balls that he got from the commissary. Time for a little juggling practice. Surprisingly, he was feeling more light-hearted than he’d felt since learning James was his father. 

****************

Peter returned from lunch and sat at his desk. To say that he was discouraged would be an understatement. Elizabeth hadn’t reacted too well when he told her he was thinking of retiring. She suggested he wait a few months before making such an impulsive decision. Impulsive? Peter was not an impulsive man. He was decisive; not impulsive. 

He grabbed a pen and started wading through a stack of forms that needed his signature. He wasn’t even half-way through the stack when there was a knock on his door. He looked up and was surprised to see Kyle Bancroft standing in his doorway. Peter quickly stood up and extended his hand as he greeted his boss with a smile.

“Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you. I wasn’t expecting you. Would you like to sit down?” Peter gestured to the comfortable chair and sofa in his new office.

Bancroft sat in the chair, leaving the lower sitting sofa for Peter. 

“Burke, I’ll get straight to the point. What happened with you and Caffrey? He called me Friday and asked me to help him return to prison. When I tried to talk him out of it he said he’d go directly to the marshals if I wouldn’t help him. You know they would just have taken him back to SingSing and his life would have been in danger there. So, I made some calls and arranged for him to be in protective custody but I’m not happy about one of the bureau’s top assets rotting in prison when he should be here helping your team. I’ve had meetings that I couldn’t get out of or I’d have been here sooner. Now, I want an explanation. Why is Neal Caffrey back in prison?”

“Sir, Neal and I had some…differences of opinion and I decided to assign him a new handler. He chose to go back to prison instead of working with someone else. He never discussed his decision with me.”

“It sounds like you gave up on him. Of course, he wouldn’t want to work with someone else; he doesn’t trust many people but he trusted you. Look, I followed his progress while he worked here. He was betrayed or taken advantage of by several FBI agents. First Fowler manipulated him into escaping from prison with only a few months left on his sentence. Agent Rice nearly got him killed. Fowler framed him and Agent Collins shot him while he was standing still with his hands up. Agent Callaway was as crooked as they come. Why should he trust a new handler?”

“Sir, Neal…when I was in prison, he…” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and tried to find a way to explain without getting himself in trouble. As his thoughts raced through possible ways to deflect and evade he realized what he was becoming. If he didn’t come clean it would eat at his conscience and he’d become a bitter old man. 

“Sir, it started with Neal's father years ago. He was a crooked cop working for the Irish mob.” Peter very clearly laid out the whole ugly story of the mistakes he’d made with Neal and James. He told Bancroft about why he’d removed Neal’s anklet and put it on his own ankle that day in the Empire State Building. He explained how Pratt had been killed by James in self-defense and why there was gunshot residue on his own hands after firing a warning shot. “Sir, after I was arrested, Neal went to great lengths to get the charges against me dropped. When I found out the details of what he had done…well, I didn’t react well. I covered up his involvement in a crime and did the best I could to straighten things out. I used my position to intimidate a corrupt judge into resigning. I made sure stolen property was returned and I covered up for the thief. Sir, I realize I’ve made a lot of mistakes and I’m willing to submit my resignation.” Peter sat slumped on the couch with his hands gripped together between his knees.

“So, Neal went to extreme lengths to protect you and make sure that you weren’t wrongly convicted of a crime and when you found out you went to extreme lengths to protect him. Then you told him you were going to pawn him off on a new handler. Does that sum up the situation accurately?”

“Yes, sir, but…”

“Burke, you screwed up. Neal looked to you for wisdom and guidance and you let him down. You didn’t follow procedure. You should have come to me directly before you decided to investigate off-book. I could have helped and maybe this wouldn’t have become such a disaster.” Bancroft was furious at the way things had developed. “I don’t want your resignation. You’re a good agent but you screwed up big time.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

Kyle Bancroft sat staring at Peter for what seemed to Peter like a very long time. “Okay, Burke, we’re not going to put any of this in your record because I don’t want anything coming back on Caffrey. He’s been used and manipulated by bad agents in the bureau and it’s about time we have his back. I don’t want your resignation, but I’ve heard that you are up for another promotion and a transfer to DC. If you get the offer it would be in your best interest to turn it down. Unless you want me to make sure you regret accepting it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you called the prison yet to find out how Caffrey’s doing?”

“No, sir. I thought it would be best not to.”

“You were wrong! You will call and talk to the warden and make sure that you will be notified if Neal even so much as gets the sniffles. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I want weekly reports from you about how he’s doing. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Bancroft got up without another word. Peter got up and was about to offer his hand when Bancroft just walked past him and exited the office. Peter sighed and scrubbed his hand along his face. It had been a long time since he’d been so thoroughly chewed out. He’d deserved it of course. But his nerves were shot and he needed a drink. He looked at the clock and his heart sank to see he had three more hours before he could leave for the day. There was no way he could leave early after the reprimand he’d just received. 

Peter went to his desk and sat down. A brief internet search was all it took to get the contact information for Terre Haute Prison. He might as well get this over with. 

It took several minutes of listening to phone directories and pushing buttons before he was finally able to speak to the warden’s secretary. After another few minutes of waiting on hold, the warden picked up his phone. 

“This is warden Conrad. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Warden Conrad. This is Peter Burke, Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the New York City White Collar Division. I’m calling to inquire about one of your inmates; Neal Caffrey. He was transferred there Monday.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How is he doing?”

“He’s in prison, Burke.” Jim Conrad’s job would be a lot easier if he didn’t have to deal with idiotic people calling all day. “How do you think he’s doing? He’s not here to be pampered, ya know.”

“I do know that.” Peter made an attempt to apply his diplomatic skills to the situation. “I appreciate that you have a very difficult job and I apologize for taking up your time. The thing is, Neal Caffrey worked for me as a confidential informant and he helped us put away a lot of criminals. I just want to make sure he’s as safe as he can be, given the situation.” 

“All right, let me check his record.” Peter heard computer keys clicking in the background and waited as patiently as he could. “Ok, there are a few notes here from his unit team. He met with them Tuesday. He was cooperative and respectful. He expressed regret for his crimes and said he just wants to finish his sentence without any trouble. He said he owns a bakery and plans to work there when he’s released. He has survived the first few days here without incident and only has eight more months to go.” The warden paused and Peter heard what sounded like a chair creaking. “How often do you plan on checking up on him?”

“I’m sorry, my boss wants weekly reports from me.” 

“Hmm. Your boss, huh? Ok, give me your email address and I’ll have my secretary send you weekly updates.”

“Thank you.” Peter gave the warden his email address and heard the warden enter it into the computer. “Would it also be possible for you to call me if there are any problems? You could just list me as his emergency contact.”

“Right. Just a minute.” Peter heard more keyboard clicking while he waited. “Peter Burke? FBI? 917-555-2849?”

“Yes, how did you get my personal cell phone number?”

“Caffrey listed you as his emergency contact. Mrs. June Ellington is listed as his mother and next of kin but he put a note to call you first and let you contact his mom. Is that sufficient?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you for your help, warden.”

Peter hung up his phone and stared quietly at it. Neal had listed him as his emergency contact. Maybe there was a chance they could get past their problems. If Neal still trusted him enough to list him as his emergency contact then there was still hope. 

******************

The slot in Neal’s cell door opened and the guard shouted at him. “Caffrey, against the wall.”

Neal quickly assumed the position while he wondered what this could be about. He heard the door open and remained standing with his hands against the wall.

“Turn around, son.” Neal turned around but remained close to the wall with his hands raised. Two guards stood in his cell with a man who was obviously in authority. “I’m Warden Conrad. I had a call from Agent Burke this afternoon. He wanted to know how you are doing. I told him you’re fine. Are you fine, Caffrey?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry he bothered you. He shouldn’t have done that.” Neal didn’t try to hide the fact that he was annoyed at Peter’s interference. 

“Relax, I don’t hold you responsible for it. Just…write him a letter or something. Ok?”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

The warden exited the cell followed by the two guards. The door slammed shut and Neal stood there staring at the door in stunned silence. What the heck was Peter thinking? 

The last thing Neal had expected was that Peter would contact the prison to check up on him. He had listed Peter as his emergency contact but didn’t really think Peter would care what happened to him. After all, Peter was done with him, right? The only reason Neal had used Peter as an emergency contact was that June shouldn’t have to deal with the paperwork if Neal ended up dead. He knew Peter would take care of the red tape to have his body transported back to New York. Not because he thought Peter cared, but because Peter Burke was the ultimate boy scout. 

Neal walked over to the table and sat down. He grabbed his pen and paper and thought of what to write to Peter. 

_Peter,_  
_I hear you’ve been checking up on me. That’s not necessary. If anything happens to me you’ll hear about it. Please don’t call the warden again. I just want to serve my time as quietly as possible and things like phone calls from the FBI can draw attention that I just don’t want._  
_I will be writing to June on a regular basis and I’ll tell her to keep you informed if you’re really interested._  
_NC_

He folded the letter and shoved it in the envelope. 

The slot in the door slid open and a food tray was shoved through. He took the tray to the table and lifted the cover off. He reached for the bottle of Pepto Bismol and took a swig right out of the bottle. Dinner consisted of pasta with…he wasn’t sure what; marinara sauce? Or was it tomato juice? There was some lettuce that he guessed was supposed to be a salad and a hard piece of greasy bread that he assumed was garlic bread. He sighed as he shoved a sporkful of pasta in his mouth. He hoped the food didn’t come back up later; it tasted bad enough going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little rough on Peter in this chapter; please don't hate me for it. All of the items Neal orders from the commissary were chosen from the Terre Haute prison online commissary list. I also found info online that prisoners at Terre Haute say the food is terrible with a lack of quantity and quality. I've used a Bureau of Prisons online menu to feed Neal. Also, Neal is probably too young to remember the Wendy's commercial but it popped into my head when I saw a "chicken-patty sandwich" listed on the menu. (Parts is parts...that still cracks me up).  
> I'm a little nervous about this chapter so I'd appreciate any comments you might have.


	3. Neal Gets Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Life is bearable when you have someone to write, and someone who writes you back. Even if it's just one person.”  
> ― Eunjin Jang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was way too much fun to write. I hope you all enjoy reading it.

_Dearest June,_

__

_I can’t even begin to express the depth of my gratitude for all you are doing for me. I received the shipment of books from Amazon and I’m already nearly done with the first book. In fact, I had to give myself a stern lecture about the importance of maintaining a balanced schedule. I won’t let myself give in to the temptation to read all day while neglecting physical exercise._

__

_I refuse to allow myself to become bored, lazy, and depressed. Not that there’s been a danger of that yet. The truth is that so far I am kind of enjoying the solitude. Sure, I know that won’t last, which is why I have taken pre-emptive action by developing a routine._

__

_My day starts when my watch alarm wakes me at five-thirty in the morning. I wash up in my little sink and get dressed. Breakfast, such as it is, is at about six and I force myself to eat all of it. I usually supplement it with a cinnamon bagel topped with peanut butter._

_After breakfast, I read for an hour and then do my hand-balance workout. After that, I have what I call my free time. LOL During this part of the day I write letters or sketch some pictures. If I’m in the mood I sing for a while. I just stand in the middle of my cell and belt out a few songs. I’m not sure how long they’ll let me get away with that but I’ll continue until I’m told to stop._

_Next comes lunch; a sad affair, I must say. I usually take a hit of Pepto Bismol as an appetizer and then eat whatever is served. Since the food portions are so small I usually fix myself a ‘prison burrito’ as well. Ramen noodles crushed up into a bag of crushed corn chips; add a little water and let it sit for a few minutes. I know it sounds a bit disgusting but it’s actually pretty good._

_After lunch, I read for about two hours to allow my food to settle before I do my aerobic workout. This part of my day is a bit of a struggle mentally. You know I like to swim or even go for a run to stay in shape. Here I have to settle for running in place or walking in my cell._

_I am supposed to have an hour outside each day but that doesn’t always work out. Sometimes the guards are understaffed and other times the weather is a problem. I can’t say that I really mind not getting out much though. Actually it can be a bit of an ordeal to deal with. First, they need to put on the shackles and then it takes two guards to escort me to the yard, where they lock me in a chain-link cage. I understand the reasons for all of that and I don’t hold it against them. They have rules and procedures and this isn’t supposed to be summer camp. I get it. And there are serious drawbacks to getting out in the fresh air. During my time inside I become accustomed to the stench of the prison. After an hour of fresh air, the smell is almost like a physical punch in the gut when they bring me back in._

_Three days a week I’m allowed a shower. Shackles are involved again, of course._

_After dinner, I usually spend time playing solitaire or practicing my juggling for a while. Then I read for a bit and go to sleep._

_So, you see, dear June, that I am doing well and am determined to not just exist, or simply survive, but to flourish and grow through this adversity. As Leonardo da Vinci said, ‘I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection’._

_Please don’t worry about me, June. The guards here do their jobs efficiently and I am convinced that I will get through this experience safely. Although, if Peter asks about me I wouldn’t mind if you made me out to be a little scared and miserable. Does that make me an awful person? Don’t answer that…it is what it is and I am who I am._

_Take care of yourself and give my love to Dante. I love you both. You two are my ‘found family’; my mother and brother._

_All my love, xoxo, Neal._

******************* 

_My dearest Neal,_

_This big old house is so quiet now that you are away. You brought so much joy into my life when I found you in that thrift shop. I think about that often these days. My children had been encouraging (nagging?) me for months to clean out Byron’s closets but I just couldn’t get myself to do it. Then one day I woke up and somehow knew it was time to move on. When I took those suits into the thrift store I’ll admit I started to have second thoughts, but then there you were. You smiled your brilliant con-man smile and I felt at peace about passing on Byron’s lovely suits. I could tell, you know; I’ve been around too many conmen in my day not to recognize the signs. But I could also see the kindness in you. And then you surprised me by telling me straight about your criminal ways. Oh, my dear, Byron would have loved you as a son, just as I do._  


_Then I took you to check out of that horrid motel. I felt like I needed a shower after just stepping into the place._  


_Peter and Elizabeth came to see me and asked how you are doing. I simply told them you were doing as well as could be expected in the circumstances. They did seem genuinely concerned for you but I couldn’t find it in myself to be too hospitable to them. I was civil, of course, but I believe they were aware that I knew how they had treated you. Peter seemed quite pleased that you listed him as your emergency contact and I didn’t enlighten him as to your reasoning. You were right about the matter, of course. Peter is, first and foremost, a man of responsibility and duty. Whether he likes you or not he will do the right thing and make sure the red tape and tedious paperwork are taken care of. I do believe he genuinely likes you though. He just can’t seem to get that stick out of his…well, enough about him._  


_Dante comes by frequently to keep me company. I do believe he’s quite lonely with you away. He loves to give the impression of complete self-reliance but I can tell he misses you very much. You are, indeed, his little brother. He comes by often and we talk about books and art while we play Candyland. He has developed a new set of rules for what he calls ‘cut-throat Candyland’. I have put your wine away for safe-keeping but I find that my own supply needs frequent replenishment. He is such a dear man._  


_Please let me know if you have any specific book requests and I will have them sent right away. Dante has given me a list of books he thinks you should read and, surprisingly, there isn’t a conspiracy book anywhere on the list. He has mostly chosen a couple of the great classics that he says he encouraged you to read when he first met you. Moby Dick and Robinson Crusoe are at the top of his list, as well as a novel, A Gentleman in Moscow, which he and I just finished for our little book club. I’ll send those if you don’t have any other requests._  


_Please never doubt that you are always in my thoughts and prayers, Neal. I look forward to receiving your next letter but I especially look forward to the day you come home._  


_Love always, June_

*********************

A letter from Diana? He removed the letter from the envelope with more excitement than he would have wanted her to see. 

_Caffrey! What the hell were you thinking? You were a part of this team and you should have discussed this with us before you gave up on us. We don’t know what went on between you and Peter, so maybe it was right for you to go, BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE TALKED TO US FIRST. Okay, I’m done yelling at you now. (I hope you could hear me yelling as you read the words)._  


_Now for the good news; CONGRATULATIONS! You’re an uncle. Although I imagine your little friend told you all about it by now. But, I know how paranoid he can be so maybe he doesn’t write to you while you’re… ya know… ‘away’. I was investigating a case…details best left unsaid in the circumstances…when I went into labor. Suddenly, there was your little friend to help me. Neal, HE DELIVERED THE BABY BY HIMSELF! Can you imagine? I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been, purely by chance, at the warehouse I was investigating._  


_Your friend has stopped by several times since we’ve gotten out of the hospital, too. He is wonderful with the baby. So sweet and gentle. But he seriously needs to stop bringing gifts. My little apartment is now crammed full with ‘intellectually stimulating’ toys for the baby._  


_I’ve named my little boy Theo. I can’t wait for you to meet him. When he gets a little older you can teach him about art and literature. Just don’t even think about teaching him about picking locks or pockets because I’LL BREAK YOU FINGERS IF YOU DO!_

_I would love it if you would write back to me if you have the time. I miss you. One thing no one can deny is that work was never boring when you were around._

_Take care of yourself, Caffrey._

_Diana_

******************

_Diana,_

_Your letter was a lovely, and much appreciated surprise. Even though you yelled at me…(I’m sending you a kicked-puppy look across the miles. Can you see it?)_

_I’m very happy to hear you and little Theo are doing well. You were right to suspect that my little friend doesn’t write to me. He won’t accept having ‘the man’ read his thoughts. I’m very glad he was there for you when you needed help. He can be an amazingly resourceful man to have in times of trouble. Thank you for being so kind to him. I think you’re his favorite ‘Suit’._  


_Yes, I should have told you my plan but I knew you’d try to talk me out of it. I really just thought this was for the best. When I finish my sentence I’ll be truly free to put the past behind me. Having my nose rubbed in my mistakes by my ‘master’ was getting pretty old. The constant reminders that I was lucky to be out and the threats to send me back to prison…I just couldn’t take any more of it. Peter is an honest and decent man and I’m…me. We had good times but we’re just too different and I don’t think it was good that we were always each trying to change the other._

_And don’t start yelling at me over that last statement. I’m not saying I don’t think I need to change…I have changed if you look at me objectively. But I need to make changes for myself. Having someone trying to force me to change just makes me want to rebel._

_Encouragement, assistance, guidance, are helpful and appreciated, but he can take his threats and superiority and stick them where the sun don’t shine._  


_I would love to hear more about how you and Theo are doing. Maybe you could send me a picture of the two of you. That would really brighten my day._

_Thank you for writing,_

_Xoxo, Neal_

_P.S. Lock-picking is a useful skill and something every boy should learn. What if he should ever lock himself out of the house?_

*************************

Neal did have days of feeling discouraged now and then. On one such day, he was cheered up by a card from Jones. He pulled the card out of the already opened envelope and stared at the picture on the front of the card. Renoir’s Woman with a Parasol in a Garden. He opened the card and read the message.

_Caffrey,_

_I hope you’re doing okay in there. Take care of yourself. Jones_

Neal smiled and closed the card. The words were few but they spoke to Neal’s heart when he was in need of encouragement.


	4. Men are Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal gets a cellmate and a letter. Peter and Neal get a chance to talk.

Forgive, son; men are men; they needs must err.-Euripides

Neal’s life had settled into a comfortable routine as time passed. Three months into his sentence the slot on his door opened and the guard shouted at him. “Caffrey, against the wall.”

Neal complied, and as he stood with his hands against the wall he heard the cell door open and someone entered. A mattress was thrown on the other bunk and some other stuff was dropped on the floor. He heard the sound of shackles being removed and then the cell door closed. Cautiously, he turned around to meet his new roommate. This didn’t look good.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, each sizing the other up. And in the size department, Neal fell a little short. His new cellie was a good four inches taller than Neal and at least forty pounds heavier. Tattoos covered his muscular arms and neck. This really did not look good.

“Hi,” Neal said hesitantly.

“Hey, man. Look, let’s lay our cards on the table. I got two months left on a ten-year sentence and I don’t want no trouble. I just want to do my time and get out. I ain’t gonna cause you no trouble, man.”

“Ok, that’s good to hear. I’ve got five more months and I don’t want any trouble either. I’m Neal. Make yourself at home.”

“You can call me Bob.” Bob turned to put sheets on his mattress as he talked. “What are you in for?”

“It was a miscarriage of justice. I’m an innocent man,” Neal replied in a monotone voice.

“Huh, me too.” Bob finished making his bed and started unpacking a box and laid a deck of cards on the table. “You play poker?”

“Yeah, but I cheat.” Neal sat on his bunk and watched Bob put away stuff onto the shelf on his side of the cell.

Bob looked over at Neal and smiled. “Would you teach me to cheat?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Neal smiled at his new cellie. He really hoped that Bob wasn’t here to kill him because the solitude was starting to get boring.

*****************

“Hon, have you had any news about Neal lately?” Elizabeth carried the meatloaf to the table while Peter got the catsup out of the fridge.

“I had a call from the warden today.” Peter sat down at the table and waited for El to bring the mashed potatoes. He took the bowl from his wife and spooned some potatoes onto his plate. “From the report I got Neal seems to be doing ok. He’s cooperative and he’s staying out of trouble.”

“How much trouble could he get into in solitary?”

“More than you’d think. Anyway, the warden says he follows the rules. He exercises in his cell and reads a lot.” Peter ate a bite of meatloaf and looked at El when he felt her staring at him. He swallowed. “What?”

“That doesn’t seem like much of a report. That’s just about stuff he does and nothing about how he feels. Is he depressed? Is he angry or scared? Is he hopeful about life after prison?”

“I don’t know El. The warden doesn’t actually talk to Neal; he just reads the reports from the unit team. They have a counselor that Neal could talk to if he wanted.”

“I doubt Neal would ever ask to talk to a counselor.” El took a sip of her wine and slowly put her glass down. “I know you said I shouldn’t write to him but I think you’re wrong, Peter. He needs to know people care about him.”

“El, I didn’t tell you not to write to him. I just told you to remember that his mail would be read before he gets it. I told you to be careful.”

“So I can write to him?”

“Sure, just remember he won’t be the only one reading it.”

“You should write to him too, Peter. Did you ever respond to that note he sent you?”

“His note didn’t sound like he wanted a reply from me, and anyway, I’m not good at that sort of thing. What would I say to him?”

“I don’t know, Peter, but I suggest you think of something. He risked a lot to help you and he needs to know that you care about him.”

“El…”

“Cowboy-up, Peter.”

Peter sighed and nodded his head. “Fine, you’re right. I’ll write to him.”

“Tonight. You’ll write to him tonight.”

“I’ll write to him tonight. Can I finish my dinner now?”

“Of course you can finish your dinner. And after you write the letter you can have dessert.”

Peter frowned and then ate another bite of meatloaf. 

*****************

Bob watched Neal pick up a book and take a letter out from between the pages. Neal stared at the folded letter for a moment and then he opened it and began to read. 

“Hey, man, are you okay?”

Neal looked up at Bob in surprise. “I’m fine. Why are you asking?”

“Man, that’s the third time you’ve read that letter since you got it. And you only got it an hour ago. It looks to me like you got some bad news.”

“Nah, it’s not bad news. It’s just…it’s not important.” Neal stuffed the letter back in the book and tossed the book on the end of his bunk and laid down. He put his hands under his head and took a few slow breaths to calm himself down. 

“It looks like it’s important to you. I’ve been your cellmate for three weeks and I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” 

“You look angry. I’ve been in this cell with you for three weeks and all that time nothing seemed to bother you. But now, you look angry.”

“I’m not angry; I’m…annoyed. I’ve been in here for nearly four months and in all that time they’ve never written to me. Now all of a sudden they write and tell me they miss me and want to know how I’m doing.” Neal stood up and put his hands on his hips and looked at Bob. “What am I supposed to do with that?” Suddenly Neal realized he was standing the way Peter would stand when he was annoyed with Neal. He put his hands down, annoyed that the orange jumpsuit didn’t have pockets. 

“Write them back. Tell them how you’re doing. Look, Neal, you know how it is for some people. They don’t know what to say so they put off saying anything at all. Next thing they know it’s four months later. If you didn’t care about them you wouldn’t care if they wrote or not. But it looks to me like you do care so maybe you need to cut them some slack.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Neal picked up the letter again and sat down at the table to read it. El had written the first part of the letter:

 _Dear Neal,_  
_I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner but I just didn’t quite know what to say._ (Neal rolled his eyes.) _I’m sorry for the things I said during that awful time. You deserve a proper apology and I do intend to give you one when you get out of there. I hope you understand that I just can’t fully express my regrets in a letter._ (Peter probably reminded her that his mail would be read before he got it.)  
_I miss you very much. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. El_

Neal sighed as he read the letter again. It had been a stressful time for all of them, and even though it still hurt to remember that time he’d already forgiven El. He could at least respond to her message.

 _Dear El,_  
_Thank you for your letter. I do understand that some things are better said in person. Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk when I get out of prison._

Well, it wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy but it was the best he could do for now. The message Peter had written was even shorter than El’s.

 _Hey, Neal,_  
_I hope you’re doing ok in there. Let’s talk when you get out. I owe you an apology and I hope you can forgive me. Peter._

 _Peter,_  
_I’m having a great time. Wish you were here. We can talk over lunch when I get out. You’re buying, of course. I’ll pick the restaurant and you’ll pick up the check for the unemployed ex-con. NC_

Neal folded the note and put it in an envelope. He didn’t care if his words made Peter uncomfortable. He was pretty sure he would forgive Peter but he didn’t feel the need to make it easy on him. And if Peter was expecting an apology from Neal in return then he would be disappointed. The only thing about the situation that Neal regretted was the fact that it had been necessary to do what he’d done. Peter needed to accept the fact that the justice system wasn’t perfect and sometimes the right thing wasn’t the legal thing. 

After the address was written on the envelope and the stamp affixed Neal turned his attention to his cellmate. “Are you happy now?”

Bob was sitting on his bunk, leaning against the wall. “It’s not about me being happy. Do you feel better now that you’ve replied to their letter.”

“I told Peter I was having a great time and I wished he was here.” The corners of Neal’s mouth turned up in a faint smile. 

“You wish he was here? That’s cold, man.” 

The two men looked at each other and then both started to laugh. 

********************

Neal had thought the stomach pains he was experiencing were the result of the gross, undercooked food. The pain started in the middle of his abdomen and got worse as the day went on. He laid down on his bunk and curled up on his side.

“Neal, aren’t you going to eat your dinner?” Bob had retrieved the trays from the slot in the door and carried them to the table. 

“Nah, I’m not feeling too good. You can go ahead and eat it.” 

“Do you need to see the nurse?” 

“Not yet. It’s probably just something I ate.” 

Bob took the cover off of his tray and looked at the skimpy portion of greasy meatloaf and the stiff lump of mashed potatoes. “Yeah, it’s probably something you ate.” 

Neal laughed and then groaned as his stomach started to churn. He tried taking deep breaths hoping the feeling of nausea would pass. When he realized that wasn’t going to work he rolled off his bunk and shuffled over to the toilet. A few seconds later he vomited his lunch. When he thought he was done he sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. 

“Sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean to puke while you’re eating.”

“Neal, I’ve been in this place for nearly ten years. That ain’t the first time I seen a man hurl chunk.” As he spoke Bob placed the cover back on his dinner tray. He’d seen plenty of men puke in this place and every time it caused him to nearly lose his own food. Being in a confinement cell with a guy who was hurling was the worst. There was no escaping the smell. 

“Let me know if you want me to get a nurse or something.”

Neal pushed himself off the floor and grabbed his trusty bottle of Pepto. He took a small sip out of the bottle and washed it down with a sip of water. Breathing deep and slow he carefully lowered himself back onto his bunk. Before he could lay down he was headed back to the toilet to vomit up the medicine. He continued puking until he hit the dry heave stage. When he thought he was done he turned to sit on the floor again. 

“Hey, Neal?”

Neal looked over at Bob with his bloodshot eyes only half-open. “What?”

“I’d really appreciate it if you could clean the puke out of your beard.” 

Neal groaned and let his head drop to the side in his misery. “You can either look the other way or get me a wet washcloth. I’m not moving from this spot.”

Bob got up and ran one of Neal’s washcloths under cold water and handed it to him. Neal scrubbed it over his beard and wished he hadn’t given up shaving two months ago. 

For the next forty-five minutes, Neal tried several times to drink some water but everything he drank came right back up. When the attendant came to take the dinner trays away Bob went to the door slot to talk to him.

“Caffrey needs some medical attention.”

“Is it an emergency?”

“I think so. He can’t even keep water down.”

“Ok, I’ll tell the guard.”

“Thanks.”

Neal gave up trying to drink anything and he asked Bob to help him onto the bed. He laid down and curled up on his side again. It was then that he realized that the pain and moved from the middle of his abdomen to the lower right area. This was not good.

“Bob?”

“Yeah, Neal.”

“I think it’s appendicitis. Could you see if they called the medical attendant?”

“Sure.” Bob walked over to the door and eyed the duress button. Pressing the button would bring someone immediately but if an inmate hit the button for anything less than an emergency there would be serious repercussions. He looked at Neal again. He was pale, sweaty, and curled up tightly on his side. Bob hit the button. 

Twenty minutes later Neal was in the infirmary being examined by an EMT. They gave him something for the pain and informed him he would be transferred to the local hospital for emergency surgery. They also told him the prison would call his emergency contact. Neal just groaned in response. He didn’t see any point in calling Peter. New York was hours away from Terre Haute and by the time Peter got here (if he bothered to come at all) Neal would probably be out of surgery and doing just fine. But he was in no condition to argue.

The ambulance ride to the hospital only took about ten minutes and Neal was rolled into an exam room handcuffed to the gurney. After a brief examination, Neal was hooked up to an IV and the nurse injected something into the IV port. Neal smiled and relaxed as the drug began to work.

When Neal began to drift back to consciousness he realized he was in a hospital room handcuffed to the bed. He could hear people arguing and he listened as he tried to clear his head. 

“…totally unnecessary. Where do you think he’s going to go in his condition?”

“I’m following the rules. This is the way it has to be. You are not in authority here.”

“We’ll see about that. I’ll call the warden and talk to him about this.”

“Go ahead. I’m not leaving this room nor am I removing the cuffs.”

Neal opened his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on. “P’ter?”

Peter turned to see Neal was awake and looking at him. He turned from his argument with the guard to go stand by Neal’s bed. 

“What is it, Neal?”

“Need t’ shut up, Peter.” Neal was still groggy and his speech was a bit slurred. 

“Excuse me?” Peter stood next to Neal’s bed in the classic Burke pose; hands on his hips looking annoyed. 

“Said shut up. He’s got a job t’ do. There’s rules ’n stuff. Y’ur not ‘is boss, P’ter.”

“Neal, I’m just trying to tell him that the cuffs are not necessary. You’re in no condition to be trying to escape.”

“Course not. ’N even if I could, that’d be stupid, right?. Guy’d have t’ be ‘n idiot to ‘scape with only four months to go.” Neal’s head flopped over to look more directly at Peter and a goofy grin appeared across his face. “P’ter, let ‘im do ‘is job. I’m not goin’ anywhere so the cuffs aren’t gonna bother me. Got four more months; don’t piss off my guard, P’ter.”

The guard had listened with interest as the prisoner talked to the FBI agent. He was relieved that Caffrey understood he was still a prisoner and there were still rules to be followed. “Don’t worry about it Caffrey,” the guard said. “I won’t hold his actions against you.” 

Neal’s head flopped over to look at the guard on the other side of his bed. “Thanks.” Neal licked his lips and swallowed hard. 

Peter watched with concern as Neal started looking distressed. “Neal, are you ok?”

“Gonna be sick.” Neal started to roll to the side of the bed but was stopped by his hand being cuffed to the rail on the other side. Just in time Peter grabbed a basin and shoved it in front of Neal while he puked up green gooey bile. When Neal was done Peter took the basin to the bathroom and rinsed it out. He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the faucet then went back to Neal’s bedside.

The guard informed Peter that he had told the nurse about Neal’s vomiting and Peter nodded as he wiped a little puke out of Neal’s beard. “Thanks,” Peter said absently to the guard while he dried Neal’s face. “What’s with the beard, Neal?”

“Just didn’t feel like shaving. Too much trouble in prison.”

The nurse came in and checked Neal’s vital signs and asked him some questions. “The nausea is most likely a reaction to the anesthesia. The doctor ordered this to help.” As she spoke she injected something into the IV port. “You should be feeling better in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you. I jus’ wanna sleep”

The nurse nodded and left. Neal sighed as he felt the nausea start to ease. “Peter?”

“Yeah, Neal?”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to. Now, shut up and go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You should go to a hotel and get some sleep, Peter.” Neal was having trouble keeping his eyes open and he yawned loudly.

“I’ll be fine here for now, Neal.”

“Too cheap to get a hotel, Peter?” Neal mumbled and was asleep before Peter had a chance to reply.

Peter stretched and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Speaking to the guard he said, “It’s been a long day.”

The guard sat down in the chair next to Neal’s bed. “You might as well take the couch and get some sleep. I’ll be keeping an eye on him until my shift ends at seven AM.”

“Good idea.” Peter took off his suit coat and hung it in the tiny closet. He pulled off his tie but paused on his way to the couch. He turned around to look at the guard. “Officer…”

“Just call me John.”

“John. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry about giving you a hard time about the cuffs. Neal was right; you’re just doing your job and following the rules. It’s was just…He was my responsibility for a long time and he’s a friend. When I got the call that he was going into emergency surgery I started thinking about things I said… things I’ve never apologized for. Anyway, I’m sorry I behaved like a jerk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John replied.

Neal stirred and mumbled, “Burke the jerk.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“In and out. Glad I didn’t miss the touching speech.”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll make another touching speech in the morning.” Peter shook his head fondly as Neal drifted off to sleep again. The couch was more comfortable than Peter had expected and he fell asleep soon as well.

When Neal woke up the sun was shining in the window and Peter appeared to be asleep on the couch. He reached for the button to raise the head of the bed and tried to get comfortable. 

“Good morning, Caffrey.”

Neal looked over at the guard, who was sitting in the chair next to his bed reading a magazine. “Good morning, sir.”

“What’s the story between you and the FBI agent?” The guard spoke quietly in an effort to let Peter sleep.

“It’s complicated,” Neal replied in a hushed tone.

“So give me the short version.”

“He arrested me and I went to prison. I escaped and he arrested me again. Then he got me out so that I could work with him as a snitch. We had a personal conflict and I asked to be returned to prison for the remainder of my sentence.”

“Well, he flew here from New York when he was notified about your surgery so you two must have resolved your personal conflict.”

“Nah, Agent Burke just has an over-inflated sense of duty. I knew if I listed him as my emergency contact he would take care of the red-tape if I was killed in prison. The fact that he came here because I had surgery doesn’t mean he’s forgiven me.”

Neither man knew that Peter had woken up and was pretending to sleep while he listened in on their conversation. “I have forgiven you, Neal.” As he spoke, Peter got up off the couch and walked over to the bed. “Although, I wouldn’t say forgiveness is the proper term. I have come to understand and accept the reasons why you did what you did. I’m even grateful for what you did…though I think that makes me a hypocritical bastard.”

The guard saw the surprise on Neal’s face and made a quick decision. “Agent Burke, if you don’t mind keeping an eye on the prisoner I think I’ll go grab a cup of coffee.” He looked at his watch and then sent a meaningful look at Peter. “I’ll probably be gone twenty minutes if you think you can handle things here.”

Peter smiled in appreciation and nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you. Take your time.”

“I’ll be back in twenty,” the guard said as he exited the room.

Peter noticed an uncharacteristic look of confusion on Neal’s face. 

“Peter? I don’t understand.”

Peter sighed as he sat down next to Neal’s bed. “I know you don’t.” Peter wrapped his hand around Neal’s forearm as it lay on the bed. “First of all, Neal, I’m not here because of some over-inflated sense of duty. I’m here because I care about you. I know it hasn’t seemed like it, but it’s true. I was wrong, Neal. What I said to you…”

“About me being a criminal? That was the truth, Peter. I am a criminal.”

Peter leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and sighed in frustration. “Yes, you are…were. But, Neal…” Peter paused to gather his thoughts. “You know you have a damn lot of nerve talking about my over-inflated sense of duty when it’s nothing compared to your over-inflated sense of loyalty. What were you thinking when you risked your freedom the way you did?”

“I was thinking I needed to fix things.” Neal pressed the button to raise the head of his bed a little higher. His expression was…not hard exactly, but determined and serious. “I was thinking I owed it to you and Elizabeth to set things straight. There didn’t seem to be a legal way to do that because sometimes the system is corrupt. I knew if you found out what I did you’d be angry but I did what needed to be done. And I’d do it again, Peter. And do you know why I’d do it again?”

“Because you’re loyal.”

“No. I did it for you, Peter. Because of who you are and what you are. You are one of the few honest lawmen I’ve ever known. Do you have any idea of the number of crooked lawmen I’ve encountered in my life? Even when I was a kid I experienced things at the hands of one of the marshals that I knew I couldn’t tell anyone about because no one would have believed me…Well, Ellen would have believed me but I couldn’t tell her. Anyway, I’ve seen corrupt police officers…” He laughed bitterly as he continued. “My own father was a crooked cop. And look at some of the FBI’s finest that I’ve had to deal with; Fowler, Rice, Kramer…Collins shot me in the leg while I was standing still with my hands in the air. Don’t you see, Peter? You're one of the good ones. I couldn’t let you take the fall for something that you didn’t do.”

“Neal.” There was a lot of information for Peter to process in what Neal had said. He focused on the most shocking part. “What did the marshal do to you when you were a kid?”

Neal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s not important anymore, Peter. I was a teenager at the time and even though I knew I couldn’t tell anyone that doesn’t mean I let him get away with it. Ellen raised me to be street-smart. I took care of him myself. I followed him and gathered evidence which I sent to his wife and the marshal service. He lost his job and his wife and he had a rather unpleasant experience in prison.” Neal locked his gaze on Peter. “I know what I did to get you out made you angry, Peter, but I won’t apologize for it.”

“I’m not here to ask for an apology, Neal. I’m here to offer one. Listen…I am who I am and I’m never going to be happy that you broke the law under my watch. But, even though I’m not happy about it I do understand it. And I appreciate it. When I said that about you being a criminal I was angry. That was how I felt in the moment, but I’ve gotten a better perspective on it since then and I owe you an apology. Can you forgive me? I never meant for you to return to prison.”

“I didn’t give up my deal because you hurt my feelings, Peter. I asked to return to prison because I didn’t want another handler. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone from outside of your team. I told you I don’t trust many people in law enforcement. I figured I was probably safer in prison. And if you’re honest with yourself you’ll admit I was right.”

“Maybe. I’m sorry I put you in that position, Neal. Can you forgive me?”

“Yeah, I can forgive you. But, Peter, I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you in the same way I used to. I mean…on an emotional level. I’m sorry, but trust doesn’t come easy to me.”

Peter looked sad as he nodded. “I understand. I let you down. But, if you can forgive me then maybe we can work on the trust thing if you’re willing.”

Neal nodded slowly. “I guess we could work on it.”

“Good. When you get out of prison we’ll go out to lunch and you can pick the restaurant. I’ll pick up the check and we’ll discuss that ‘wish you were here’ comment you made in your letter.”

Neal shrugged and tipped his head to one side. “I may still have been slightly bitter at that point.”

Their discussion was interrupted by the nurse’s arrival to check his vital signs. After she efficiently recorded the numbers she checked his IV and asked if he needed any pain medication. Neal declined anything stronger than Ibuprofen. The nurse left just as the guard returned with his coffee. She returned a moment later with the pain reliever.

When the nurse asked if she could get him anything else Neal slowly shook his head, but Peter had a request. “Could you bring in some scissors and shaving supplies?”

The nurse’s eye grew wide as she heard Peter’s request. “Sir, this man is a prison inmate. We can’t allow him to have scissors and a razor.”

Neal watched as Peter stood up straighter and addressed the nurse in his demanding FBI-agent voice. “He is a non-violent white-collar criminal. He is also being supervised by a prison guard and an FBI agent. We have the situation under control if you will just bring the things I asked for.”

“Fine, I’ll bring them, but I won’t come back into this room until you bring the stuff back out to me. If he stabs you, you’re on your own.” The nurse turned with a toss of her head and left the room. 

Neal looked over at Peter with a hurt look on his face. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would stab somebody?”

Peter laughed and nodded his head. “Yeah, buddy, with that beard you do look rather unsavory. If you’re going to charm the nurses we need to shave the beard off.”

Neal yanked his handcuffed left hand and rattled the chain. “Not likely to charm any nurses while I’m cuffed to a bed anyway.”

“I seem to remember you didn’t have much trouble charming the women while wearing a tracking anklet. How is this different?”

“I could hide the anklet under my pant leg. This is harder to hide.”

Peter reached over Neal and pulled the blanket up over his hand and the bedrail. 

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure they’re still going to see it when they check my pulse.” 

“You’re the one who told me to shut up when I was trying to get the guard to take it off. Now you’ll just have to live with it.” 

The nurse brought the shaving supplies and the guard watched as the two men argued about who was going to use them. 

“Peter, I can do it myself. You of all people should know the things I’m capable of even while handcuffed.”

“Your first move is usually to pick the lock.” Peter glanced at the guard and quickly added, “allegedly”.

Neal ignored Peter’s comment and picked up the scissors. “Peter if you’ll just hold your phone up in selfie-mode I’ll be able to see what I’m doing.”

When Neal was done shaving Peter took the towels away and stood back to look at his friend. “You look much better without the beard.”

Neal rubbed his hand over the smooth skin of his face and smiled. “Thanks, Peter. I feel a lot better.” The look he directed at Peter seemed to say he wasn’t just talking about the shave. “Thanks for coming, Peter. I appreciate it.”

“It’s what friends do, Neal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Peter finally apologized. I would love to hear your thoughts about what you think of his apology. Also, I just couldn't resist the 'wish you were here' comment that Neal made from prison. Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal returns to prison after his appendectomy and Peter returns to New York. Bancroft has a plan. Peter is ready for a change.

Great minds have purpose, others have wishes. Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune; but great minds rise above them. - Washington Irving

Peter watched as Neal, dressed in his prison orange jumpsuit, was wheeled out of his hospital room. They’d had a good visit and Peter thought Neal had forgiven him for past mistakes. But, when he had asked Neal to come back and work with the White Collar team after his release from prison Neal’s answer had been a firm NO. Peter walked slowly towards the parking garage thinking about how he was going to break the news to Bancroft. He still didn’t understand Bancroft’s interest in Neal. Sure, he knew they had gone to an ‘art’ exhibit together but Bancroft hadn’t shown any further concern until Neal returned to prison. After the dressing-down that Bancroft had given him, Peter didn’t think it would be wise to question his boss about it. 

Peter unlocked the rental car got in it. He took out his cell phone and dialed his boss’s number. “Good morning, sir.”

“How is Caffrey doing, Burke?”

“He’s going to be fine. The doctor checked him out and released him this morning. They just took him back to prison a few minutes ago.”

“Did you tell him there’s a position for him as a paid consultant when he’s released?”

“Yes, sir. He turned it down. We had a good visit and I thought we’d worked out our differences, but when I offered him the job he wasn’t interested.”

“Well, that’s his decision to make. But the offer still stands if he changes his mind. In the meantime, I’ve got an appointment tomorrow at the Office of the Pardon Attorney. I’m petitioning for a presidential pardon on Neal’s behalf.”

“A presidential pardon, sir? Isn’t that a bit…extreme? Neal has less than four months left on his sentence.” To say Peter was stunned by the suggestion of a presidential pardon would be an understatement. 

“No, I don’t think it’s extreme, Burke. Look, I have no illusions about Caffrey; I know he’s a criminal. I don’t know if he’s reformed. But there’s no denying the fact that he would never have escaped from prison if one of our own hadn’t interfered. Fowler used FBI resources to manipulate Caffrey into escaping. Fowler, an OPR agent, then tried to frame Caffrey for theft to further manipulate him. I should have pressed for a pardon a long time ago but I thought working with you would be good for him. For whatever reason, that didn’t work out and now I intend to do what I should have done after we found out about Fowler. The system failed, and before I retire I’m going to attempt to fix this situation. You may receive a call from the Pardon Attorney; I assume I can count on you to support a pardon.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. Keep me informed of any news you get about Caffrey.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter disconnected the call and continued to sit in the parked car thinking about what Bancroft had said. All the time Peter had sat in prison he’d had faith that the justice system would work. He’d been angry when he found out that Neal had manipulated the system and broken the law to get the murder charge dropped. But after Bancroft’s comments, Peter found himself looking at things from Neal’s point of view, which was something he should have done a long time ago. Of course Neal hadn’t had faith in the justice system; why would he? What chance for justice had Neal had when the people who were supposed to uphold the law were corrupt? Peter slammed his fist against the steering wheel in frustration. Bancroft was right; Neal had been used and manipulated. He deserved to have someone stand up and fight for him. Peter was done making excuses for a system that could be so easily abused. 

*********************

The cell door slammed shut and Neal made his way to his bunk and sat down on the edge of it and looked over at his cellmate. 

“Welcome home, Neal.”

Neal gave Bob a crooked smile and drew his legs up so he could move back and lean against the wall. “Did you miss me, Bob?”

“You weren’t gone very long; only two days. It must not have been too serious.”

“They didn’t tell you anything?” Bob shook his head and Neal nodded knowingly. “Of course, they didn’t. Well, it was appendicitis. They did laparoscopic surgery; just a few small incisions that they closed up with glue and a couple of stitches. I’m a little sore and uncomfortable but not really in pain. I just need to take it easy and rest for a week or so. That shouldn’t be a problem here.”

“That’ll be good for me; I won’t have to worry about getting kicked in the head if you lose your balance during your cat-burglar workout.”

“Bob,” Neal scoffed, “you should trust me more. Have you ever seen me lose my balance?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. But, I have a confession and an apology to make.” 

Neal raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. “That sounds serious.”

“You know my sister sends money into my account every month, right?” Neal nodded. “Well, her car broke down and money’s tight for her, so she couldn’t send me anything this month. I figured you’d be gone a little longer and I…I helped myself to some of your food stash. I ate some of your Ramen noodles and Doritos. I’m sorry, I’ll pay you back when I can.”

Neal shrugged and smiled at Bob. “Don’t worry about it, man. I ordered extra stuff from the commissary when they moved you in here just in case you were less than friendly and I needed to bribe you. You’re welcome to whatever I have. Let me know if there’s anything you want me to order next week.”

“Thanks, man…Are you okay? You seem a little tired. Are you sure you’re not in any pain?”

“Just a little sore and tired.” Neal sighed and was silent for a moment before he continued. “I guess I’ve just got stuff on my mind. Life is weird sometimes, ya know?”

“What weird life stuff is on your mind right now?”

Neal shook his head and then shrugged. “Just…stuff. How can two people from totally different backgrounds, who have almost no interests in common, become friends? If coworkers become friends and then one leaves the job can they stay friends if that was the only thing they had in common? And if they don’t remain friends…were they ever really friends?”

“I think that if the people missed each other after they parted then there must have been a genuine friendship.”

“I guess.” Neal laid down on his bunk. “I think I’ll take a nap. When they deliver lunch you can eat mine; I’m not really hungry.”

“Ok.” Bob watched as Neal shifted around to get comfortable. The two days he’d spent alone in this cell had nearly driven him crazy. He didn’t know how Neal had coped with the three months he’d been alone in here. 

*******************

Elizabeth greeted Peter with a hug and a kiss when he walked tiredly in the front door. “Come on in the kitchen and you can tell me all about your visit with Neal while I finish dinner.”

Peter followed El and sat down at the kitchen table while she went to the fridge to get him a beer. He twisted off the cap but just sat there staring at the bottle. 

“Peter? You called me Tuesday and told me Neal accepted your apology and you had a good conversation. What didn’t you tell me?” El took the cover off the large pot on the stove and stirred the stew while she waited for an answer.

Peter took a sip of beer and then set the bottle back on the table. His shoulders were slumped and he looked tired and discouraged. “We had a good conversation. Things seemed almost normal. I spent the days with him and slept on the couch in his room because I was afraid they might send him back to prison without letting me know. It was a good visit until just before the hospital discharged him. He was dressed in his orange jumpsuit and I felt so guilty for letting him down.” Peter sighed and took another sip of his beer. “I asked him to come back to work as a consultant after he finished his sentence. I’d already talked to Bancroft about it.” He sat up straighter and leaned his arms on the table. “Did I tell you what Bancroft said?” El shook her head. “He’s trying to get Neal a presidential pardon. It could take a while to go through channels though. He’ll probably finish his sentence before the paperwork gets processed.”

“What did he say?”

“What?”

“What did Neal say when you asked him to come back to work as a consultant?”  


“He said, ‘no’”.

“Just ‘no’?”

“Actually he said, ‘hell no’. Then they put the cuffs on him and took him away.”

“That doesn’t sound like Neal. Maybe it was the pain medications. You know he doesn’t handle drugs well.”

“He wouldn’t take any pain meds. He said he was just a little sore and would only take ibuprofen. No, El, he meant it. He said ‘hell no’ and smiled and waved as they pushed him out of the room in a wheelchair.”

“Well, just because he doesn’t want to work with you doesn’t mean he’s still angry with you. Maybe he has other plans.”

“Maybe. He told the prison officials that he plans to work in his bakery. I can’t imagine him being happy doing that.”

El turned off the stove and filled two bowls with the beef stew she’d cooked. She carried the bowls to the table and sat down. “If he wants to work in the bakery then we will support his decision. He’s our friend, Peter. We aren’t going to let him down again. You write him a letter and make sure he knows that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll write to him tomorrow. Right now I’m just too exhausted.”

***********************

Neal laid on his bed trying to sleep. He was tired, but thoughts of his last words to Peter kept going through his head. He felt bad about the way he’d replied to Peter’s offer and couldn’t stop thinking about the reasons for his reaction. He liked Peter. He liked working with Peter, but…but, most often he’d been working FOR Peter, not with him. Peter held his leash; Peter had power over him. Neal realized that for him it was a choice of either working for Peter or being friends with him. He admitted to himself that he wanted Peter as a friend; not a boss. With that settled in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

Neal woke up when he heard the door slot close. Bob walked over and handed him a letter. “They just brought your mail. How are you feeling?”

“Thanks,” Neal said as he reached for the letter. “I’m ok.”

Bob sat down and picked up his book. It was an unwritten rule that you don’t bother a man when he’s reading a letter. 

_Dearest Neal,_

_I do hope everything is well with you._ (Neal looked at the date June had written on the letter and realized it had been written two days before he was taken to the hospital.) _I’m so sorry that you are in that horrid place during, what I know is, your favorite time of year. Yesterday was one of those spectacular autumn days that overwhelm one’s soul with beauty. The trees in the park were in full color, and when the sun peaked through the clouds it lit up the trees against the dark sky. Cindy was with me and she took a few pictures which I will send with my next letter._

_Dante has been dropping by almost daily to ‘make sure I’m ok’. He’s lonely without you and he seems to think he should have done more to change your mind about returning to prison. I remind him that it was your decision and you did weigh all of the options and consequences before you made up your mind. He nods in agreement but I can see the doubt in his eyes._

_Dante has asked me to pass on a message to you. He says that he has received an offer for the bakery. Naturally, he has thoroughly investigated the potential buyer. If you think you might be interested in selling, Dante and my lawyer are willing to work together on the negotiations. We all are aware that you will want assurances that your employees will not lose their jobs and Dante says the buyer has already agreed to that. It’s a wonderful thing you are doing by giving jobs to ex-cons. I am so proud of you, Neal. I know I’ve said that before but I don’t want you to forget it._

_As you know, I always travel to South Carolina to spend Thanksgiving with my daughter. She has persuaded me to spend more time with her this year and I’ve arranged to leave New York next weekend. I’ll be with her for about six weeks; returning home after Thanksgiving weekend. I’ll write to you from there and I expect you to write back. I’ll have none of that nonsense about you not wanting to bother me when I’m with family; you are a part of my family too, young man._

_Please think about what you might like to do with the bakery. You know you can trust Dante to make sure it is a good offer. If you decide to sell we have the Power of Attorney you gave us to enable us to sign the documents for you. It can all be taken care of before you get out if that’s what you want. Dante won’t give me any specific details but he seems to be looking into a business that’s more in line with your artistic interests; an art supply store I believe. I don’t want you to feel pressured to make a decision though. Just think about it and let us know your thoughts and concerns._

_My love to you, always, June_

Neal carefully stood up to get a bottle of water and some ibuprofen. After washing down the tablets he grabbed some writing paper and a pen and sat down to write a letter to June. 

_Dear June,_

_I’m sure by now you’ve heard all about my surgery and I hope you weren’t too worried about me. I’m fine now; just a little sore and tired. I don’t seem to have much appetite but the doctor said that’s to be expected and I should be back to normal in a week or two._

_I trust you and Dante to look out for my best interests while I’m in here. If you both think it’s a good offer and trust the buyer to take care of my employees then I’m good with selling the bakery. If the buyer keeps Jason on as manager then there shouldn’t be a problem. Jason will always be willing to take a chance on ex-cons because he’s experienced the difficulties of being an unemployed ex-con himself. He knows how important it is to give people a second chance in life._

_If Dante has a lead on an art-supply store, I’m all for it; it sounds like a great idea. Please tell him to go ahead and do what he thinks is best._

_I hope you have a lovely visit with your daughter and her family. Thank you so much for your letters. I look forward to receiving the photos from your autumn day in the park. Autumn is, indeed, my favorite time of year._

_Love, always, Neal_

Neal addressed the envelope and stuffed the letter in. He sighed and stared at a blank piece of writing paper. He owed Peter an apology and knew he couldn’t put it off. He picked the pen up and began to write.

_Peter,_

_Thank you so much for coming all this way to see me when I was in the hospital. It meant more to me than you can imagine._

_I want to explain my reply to your job offer. You and I worked well together through most of my time with your team. You were a good handler and I did trust you to have my back. I did consider you a friend (I still do, but I’m speaking now of that time working for you). Ours was an unlikely friendship from the beginning. I was a criminal and you were, are, and always will be a lawman. I’ve accepted the fact that you’ll never trust me but I have no interest in working for someone who is always suspicious of my motives. You were my handler first and my friend second. That’s the way it had to be then, but that’s not what I want going forward._

_Peter, I want us to remain friends and I don’t think that’s possible if we work together on a regular basis. That’s why I turned down your offer. I would consider doing some freelance consulting on occasion. The next time you have a Caffrey copycat give me a call. Definitely call me the next time you need a bank’s security tested. I would love to ‘rob’ a bank with my favorite FBI agent as part of my crew._

_I’ll be out of here in January. Tell Elizabeth to start planning a special dinner for me. No meatloaf, please._

_XOXO, Neal_

Neal stuffed the letter to Peter in an envelope and yawned. He carefully got up from the uncomfortable chair and walked slowly across the cell to his bed. He reached for one of his racketballs and laid down. He began tossing the ball into the air and catching it the way he used to do with his rubber band ball in the office. “Bob…” 

“Yeah, Neal?” Bob was glad that Neal wanted to talk; the cell had been too quiet when Neal was gone.

“What’s on the menu for dinner tonight?”

“Pasta with marinara sauce.” 

Neal stopped tossing the ball and looked over at Bob. “Did you eat all of the Ramen noodles?”

“Nah, you’ve still got several packets. You going to pass on the marinara?”

“Yeah. I don’t have much of an appetite. I think I’ll just have the noodles.”

“Was the hospital food any good?”

“It was ok. I wasn’t very hungry there either.” Neal went back to tossing the ball in the air.

“Neal…”

Neal stopped tossing the ball and sat up on the edge of his bed. “Bob?”

“How long has it been for you? Since…ya know…since you were first put in prison.” 

“Why?” Neal had never told Bob any details about his escape and the fallout from it. They’d had a silent agreement not to discuss their crimes or their lives outside of prison. 

“Well, ya know I’ve been in prison for nearly ten years. I guess a lot has changed on the outside. I was just wondering how long its been since you were out.”

“It’s complicated. I was sentenced to four years about eight years ago. I escaped with just a few months to go and they caught me and gave me another four years. But I was out for most of the last four years. It’s…complicated.”

“It doesn’t sound too complicated. You must have been an informant, right? Look, I don’t care. We all do what we gotta do to survive. I’ve only got a few weeks left in here and I’m not going to do anything to mess that up. I didn’t mean to get in your business, I just wanted to talk.”

“It’s ok. Yeah, I was an informant for the FBI. The guy I wrote the letter to…the ‘wish you were here’ letter…he’s an FBI agent. The same one who arrested me and the one who was my handler when I was out.”

“Is he the one who put you back in here?”

“No, I did that myself. I just reached a point where I couldn’t do it anymore. So, I told them I wanted to finish my sentence in prison.”

“So, what is it like out there these days? How has it changed in the last ten years?”

“You have family that cares about you, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s all that’s important. As long as you have that then the other things don’t matter.” Neal laid back down on his bed and tossed the ball in the air. “You know, Bob, you never did tell me why they put you in here with me. Why are you in the SHU?”

“Some guys managed to corner a guard and were beating the crap out of him. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and couldn’t just do nothing. So, I helped the guard and got a target on my back. I asked for protective custody and they put me in here with you.”

“Helping the guard was the right thing to do. I’m happy to have you as a cellmate, Bob.”

“Thanks. Do you want to play a few hands of cheater’s poker before dinner.”

“Might as well. I’ll be back to playing solitaire in a few weeks.” Neal got up to sit at the table with Bob, who had already started dealing the cards. “You’re getting better at dealing from the bottom of the deck; I almost didn’t notice it.”

“I had a good teacher. I just need more practice.”

***************************************

Peter helped El with the dishes and then they sat down on the couch to watch television. “El, I’ve been thinking. I think it’s time for me to think about retiring from the bureau.”

“Is this because of Neal?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a few months. The situation with Neal may have been the trigger but there are a lot of reasons why I think it’s time to move on. I've got my twenty years in and I'll be turning fifty in a few months so I'll be eligible to retire. The promotion to Hughes's old job came with a good raise, but, Hon…I sit all day reading reports, signing reports, and going to meetings. It’s just…”

“It’s boring. After years of chasing Neal and then working with him, you are bored with a desk job. I’ve noticed the change in you, Peter. You don’t look forward to going to work anymore.”

“Exactly. I’ve been thinking of going into accounting. I could get a job making a lot more money and actually be able to take time off for vacations.”

“But it would still be a desk job. Wouldn’t you still be bored?”

“Maybe. And I haven’t actually started looking for a job yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“I appreciate that, Peter. If you really want to change careers then I think you should do it.” Elizabeth tucked her feet up behind her on the couch and moved over to lean against Peter’s chest. “Didn’t you know a guy who started his own security company a few years ago? Maybe that would be more interesting for you.”

“Yeah, Nathan Richards started a high-tech security company. He’s been working with corporations to design security and alarm systems. I could give him a call. If he doesn’t have any job openings he might know someone who does. But, are you sure you wouldn’t mind me changing careers?”

“I just want you to be happy, Hon.”

“I have the best wife in the world, how could I not be happy.” He leaned his head to kiss El’s neck and sighed in contentment.

“Hmm, I know you couldn’t have gotten much sleep the last few days between traveling and staying in the hospital with Neal. Maybe we should have an early night.”

“I married a smart woman.” 

“Yes, you did. Why don’t you let Satchmo out while I go slip into something more comfortable.”

…………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I had a very difficult time with this chapter. Comments and suggestions are always appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal begins to have hope for his future.

“Friendship,” said Christopher Robin, “is a very comforting thing to have.” A. A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

“Hon, are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the train station?” El finished packing Peter’s carry-on bag and zipped it shut.

“I’m sure. Jones is sending a probie to take me. I wish I’d have had more notice that they wanted to talk to me in person. Bancroft only told me yesterday that he was seeing the pardon attorney today. I figured they’d just call me on the phone if they had any questions for me.” Peter finished tying his lucky tie and pulled his jacket off the hanger.

“Well, I’m glad you’re going to see them in person. You’ll have time on the train today and in the hotel tonight to think about what you want to say about Neal. Your appointment isn’t until tomorrow morning…Hon, are you sure you want to wear that tie?”

“This is my lucky tie, El.”

“Peter, I love you and I’m going to honest with you; that tie is ugly and way out of style. Why don’t you wear one of the ties that Neal gave you? After all, you are going to be speaking to the pardon attorney about Neal. You want to make a good impression, don’t you?”

“They aren’t going to judge my statement by my tie. They just want my opinion about whether he should be pardoned.”

“Wear the blue silk tie Neal got you for Christmas last year. Please.”

Peter groaned with annoyance. He pulled off the ugly tie and walked to the closet to get the one El told him to wear. “I should be home by tomorrow evening.” He finished tying his tie and looked at himself in the mirror. He stubbornly refused to admit how nice the tie looked with his suit. 

El put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a kiss. “Good luck, Hon.”

***************

The first four months of Neal’s return to prison hadn’t been easy, but they hadn’t been terrible either. He had been determined to take one day at a time and not dwell on the past. He’d focused on keeping his mind alert and his body fit. What he hadn’t anticipated was the effect hope would have on his daily existence. Now that Mozzie was working on selling the bakery and buying an art supply store, Neal’s time in prison seemed almost unbearable. He wanted out, NOW. He was ready to get on with his life. 

Neal sat on the floor of his cell tossing one of his racket balls. He threw it on the floor and it bounced up to hit the wall and come back to him. He caught it and threw it; caught it and threw it. He wanted out; he wanted out…

“NEAL,” Bob yelled at him.

Neal caught the ball and looked at Bob in surprise. “What?”

“How long do you intend to sit there re-enacting that scene from The Great Escape? You’re getting on my last good nerve, man.”

“Sorry.” Neal pushed himself up off the floor carefully. It had been a week since his surgery and he was still a little sore. “I just can’t seem to settle back into the routine. I keep thinking about the future and wanting to get out of here.”

“I understand. It’s weird, isn’t it? You’d think the first few months of prison would be the worst, but I’ve watched other guys go through this and the last few months are just as hard.”

“Yeah, the last time I got this close to finishing my sentence I escaped. You’ve just got two weeks now, right?”

“Eighteen days. I’ll be out in time for Thanksgiving.”

“I’m happy for you, Bob, but I’m going to miss you. It’s going to be a long three months in here by myself.”

“You’ll make it. You’re strong, man.”

“Yeah.” Neal sat down on his bunk facing Bob, who was sitting on his own bunk. “Catch.” Neal tossed the ball and Bob caught it. They spent the next twenty minutes playing catch until they were interrupted by the delivery of their lunch trays. 

******************

“Good morning, Boss.” Peter looked up to see Diana standing in the doorway of his office.

“Diana! Welcome back. It’s hard to believe it’s been three months already. Is Theo down in the daycare facility?”

“Yeah. I was hoping to find a nanny for him but haven’t had any luck yet. Mozzie watches him sometimes but he’s had something important going on the last few days. I’ve been afraid to ask for details.” 

Peter smiled in understanding. “Plausible deniability is as important with Mozzie as it is with Neal.” 

“Speaking of Neal…how did it go in DC yesterday?” She asked the question in a casual manner but Peter could tell it was the real reason she had knocked on his door.

“It went well, I think. But how did you know about it?”  


“This may be my first day back to work after my pregnancy leave but I have kept up with what’s going on at the office.”

“Jones told you.” Peter smiled knowingly. “Did he send you in here to find out the latest developments?”

“Yes. And it seems to be going better than the last time he sent me to ask you a question about Neal.”

Peter took a deep breath and sighed. “I think there’s a good chance he might get the pardon, Diana. The Office of the Pardon Attorney is reviewing the case and if they approve it they will make a recommendation to the president. One thing I stressed in my meeting with them is that if the president approves the pardon it shouldn’t be used as a publicity stunt. It could be dangerous for Neal if the news reporters get ahold of this.”

“You think it will be that newsworthy?”

“It’s politics. The president’s political foes are always looking for some kind of scandal to exploit. The thing I’m most worried about is a headline like: ‘Neal Caffrey, forger and con-artist pardoned by POTUS’. Neal has enemies; some from his criminal past and some from his time with us. I want him to get the pardon but not if it will put his life in danger.”

Diana walked over to the chair in front of Peter’s desk and sat down. “Suppose…” She paused as she tried to formulate the plan that had crept into her head. 

Peter leaned forward and leaned his arms on his desk. “Suppose…what?”

“Well, Neal is kind of a special case, right? I mean, we know that Caffrey isn’t his real name but we have never changed his records. What if we changed it now? If we change his record to Bennett and list Caffrey as an alias then the pardon could go through as Bennett. Most of Neal’s enemies wouldn’t think twice about that name even if they heard about the pardon.”

“But Neal wouldn’t go for it. He would hate using his father’s name.”

“Well, some states allow felons to change their names. And if he gets the pardon, the name change shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, legally changing his name to Caffrey wouldn’t really make a difference to his records because his crimes were committed while he was using that name. Really, all we’d be doing is helping him to get a legal name. It’s our duty to make sure he’s got a proper ID.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Peter leaned back in his chair and his face lit up with a smile of delight. “Ok, Diana, this is your idea so get started with some research. Recruit whoever you need to help you. I’m going to call Bancroft and run it by him.”

“What about the morning meeting?” 

“Go tell Jones what’s going on and tell him to handle the meeting. That’s what he gets for sending you to do his dirty work.” Peter picked up his phone to call Bancroft and looked up at Diana. “Go, you’ve got an important case to work on. Keep me updated on your progress.”

Diana stood up and saluted Peter. “Yes, Boss, I’m on it.” She turned sharply and nearly bounced out of the office.

Ten minutes later Peter was feeling discouraged. Bancroft had approved of the idea but he pointed out that it was unlikely they’d be able to get Neal’s original birth certificate since his birth record would have been sealed by a judge when he was taken into WITSEC. They needed to verify Neal’s real identity before he could legally change his name to Caffrey. He hoped Diana would be able to pull a rabbit out of her hat.

It was late in the afternoon when Diana returned to Peter’s office. She looked tired but she was smiling victoriously. She sat down in the chair in front of Peter’s desk and started giving the details of her investigation. 

“Ok, Boss, birth records are sealed by a judge when anyone enters WITSEC. It would take a court order to unseal them and that might take a while. I searched through census records for Neal Bennett in Baltimore Maryland but didn’t have any luck. So I started searching for James Bennett and got a hit. James Bennett was married to Fiona Caffrey Bennett and they had a son named Nealon D. Bennett.”

“Nealon?”

“Yep. His real name is Nealon.”

“What’s the ‘D’ for? I thought his middle name was George.”

“Give me a minute, I’m getting to that. Although, I don’t know where he got the name George from. Anyway, I started searching the records and I found Fiona Caffrey’s parents. They still live in Baltimore. They are in their late seventies.”

“You didn’t contact them, did you?” Peter’s disapproval was obvious in the tone of his voice.

“No, of course not. But I have their address in case Neal wants to contact them himself. Anyway, I thought I was probably at a dead end and decided to take a lunch break. Thinking I’d be working late I thought I’d try to get a baby sitter for this evening and I called Mozzie.”

“Mozzie?”

“He’s very good with Theo. You should see them together. Mozzie is patient and gentle and he doesn’t do the baby-talk thing. He speaks to Theo in French and Portuguese and sings lullabies to him. Anyway, I told Mozzie why I was working late and he said, ‘don’t waste your time, Lady-suit, I have Neal’s birth certificate in a safe deposit box.’”

“How did Mozzie get it?”

“Apparently Neal’s mother took it with her and hid it from the marshals when they went into WITSEC. She showed it to Neal when he was a teenager, and when he ran away he took it. Mozzie has been keeping it safe since their early days together.”

“So, what’s the ‘D’ for?”

“Mozzie wouldn’t tell me that.” Diana’s expression grew serious. “But, boss, Mozzie thinks we need to run this by Caffrey to get his approval before we do anything. It seems Neal was saving his real ID for retirement or an emergency. And what about the people who the marshals were protecting Neal’s family from; the Irish mob and Senator Pratt? There may have been others that we don’t know about. What if they see a report that Nealon Bennett was pardoned?”

“The Flynns are dead and so is Pratt. Neal was only three when James got involved in all of that. I’ll contact organized crime and see if they found anything else in the box of evidence that Ellen had, but I don’t think there will be a problem there.” Peter leaned back in his chair. “We’re going to need to get a lawyer in on this. Talk to Mozzie and see if Neal has a lawyer who could go to the prison to talk to Neal. I want this to be completely legal and I’m sure Mozzie won’t want to use his real name if he visits Neal in prison. Actually…we don’t have any idea what Mozzie’s real name is, do we?”

“We don’t have anything official in any of our records about Mozzie or what his real name might be.” 

“Hmm, why do I get the feeling that Neal would be proud of the evasive way you answered that question?” Diana ignored Peter’s knowing smile.

“I’ll call Mozzie to ask about a lawyer and I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out anything.” 

“It’s good to have you back, Diana.”

“It’s good to be back.” Diana stood up and grinned at her boss. “I never thought I would become so attached to a convicted felon but Neal is special, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is… Now, go call Mozzie and let’s get our favorite felon out of prison.”

“I’m on it, Boss.”

********************

“Hi, Hon, how was your day?” El greeted him with a kiss and a hug.

“It was good. Diana came back from her pregnancy leave and she had an idea on how we can protect Neal if he gets the pardon.”

“Did you ever write to Neal after you got back from your visit with him?”

Peter hung his coat up by the door and turned back to face his wife. The expression on his face told her he had not written the letter.

“Oh, Peter, how could you forget a thing like that?”

“I’ve been so busy with everything involved in trying to get him the pardon that it just slipped my mind. I’ll do it tonight.” He sat down on the couch and sighed. “I’m sorry, El.”

“Here,” El said as she handed him a letter and sat down on the coffee table facing him. “You got a letter from Neal today. I almost opened it and read it myself. Open it and tell me what it says.” Peter could tell she was nervous about what Neal might have written. 

Peter quickly read the short letter and breathed a sigh. “He says he wants us to remain friends but he doesn’t want to work for me. He might be interested in doing some freelance consulting. That’s not what I was hoping for but it’s better than I was expecting. You know, he told me he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to really trust me again.”

“Trust doesn’t come easy for Neal. But, Peter, he likes you and respects you. It might take time but I think he’ll trust you again someday. Be patient with him. When he gets out we’ll have a special dinner for him and I’ll apologize for how I treated him.” She moved to the couch and sat beside him. “Peter, you may not want to hear this, but I think it’s a good thing that he doesn’t want to work with you right now. It will give you two a chance to develop a different kind of friendship than you had before. A friendship where neither has more power than the other. I know you always tried not to abuse the power you had over him, but sometimes he put you in difficult positions.”

“Yes, he did. And sometimes I lost patience. There were power struggles between us. I wonder if he’ll change his mind about being a consultant when I tell him I’m planning to retire soon.”

“Maybe he will. Speaking of retirement…have you decided on a date yet?”

“I’ve been going over our finances and I think we’re in good shape. How does a trip to Paris in April sound to you? We could take a few weeks off before I start my new job.”

“New job?”

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to mention that. I talked to Nathan and he says he’d love to have me working for him. It won’t pay as much as I make now but I won’t be working as many late nights as I have in the past. Plus I’ll be drawing my retirement pay from the bureau, so we’ll do ok financially.”

“Maybe I should cut back on my working hours too. I could let Yvonne take more responsibility. You and I could spend more time together.”

Peter drew her into a hug and kissed her neck. “Hmm, that sounds like a great idea, Mrs. Burke.”

**************************** 

Neal shuffled along in shackles to the private visitation room. The news that his lawyer was here had been unexpected. He only had about three-and-a-half months to go on his sentence and the thought occurred to him that an appearance by his lawyer might not be good news. He wondered if there was new evidence linking him to one of his old crimes. Was he about to be convicted and sentenced for something in his past? The guard escorted him into the room where Neal was surprised to see not only June’s lawyer but Agent Jones as well. This really didn’t look good. Neal shuffled over to the table and sat down. 

“Caffrey, how are you doing?” Jones hated seeing Neal like this but he tried to act natural. 

“Oh, you know how it is, Jones. Prison is a lot like summer camp; the food is terrible, everyone is miserable and wants to go home.” Neal looked from Jones to the lawyer, Mr. Bailey. “What’s going on?”

The lawyer nodded at Jones, indicating that he should make the explanation. “Right, well…” Jones cleared his throat. “Kyle Bancroft has been trying to get you a presidential pardon. You have a good chance but there is a problem.”

“I would think there’d be more than one problem.” To say Neal was surprised would be a massive understatement. “I only have three months left on my sentence. Why bother with a pardon?”

“Well, for one thing, you might be able to get out a little sooner. Another thing would be that as a convicted felon you may have a difficult time getting a passport, and we all know how you like to travel. A pardon will restore any rights you’ve lost. You can get a legal passport, vote, and serve on jury duty.”

Neal nodded slowly. “This may come as a shock to you but I don’t mind that I won’t be able to serve on a jury. And I’ve, allegedly, never had trouble getting a passport before.” Neal’s grin was one Jones had seen many times. It was the one he usually used when he was taunting Peter.

“As your legal counsel, Mr. Caffrey, I would advise you to avoid any mention of alleged crimes. Passport fraud is a serious federal crime. You’d be looking at a very long sentence if you got caught.” 

“Of course. I’m sure Agent Jones knows I was joking. So…what is this problem that is standing in the way of my pardon?”

The lawyer thought it would be best if he handled this part of the discussion. “I’m sure you realize that anything like a presidential pardon is likely to be reported in the newspapers. It’s simply a matter of politics. Everything the president does is news. The problem is that you, Mr. Caffrey, have enemies. We are concerned that a report of your pardon could put a target on your back.”

Neal nodded in agreement. “So, why is a pardon being considered? Wouldn’t it be best to just let me finish my sentence?”

Jones leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Diana came up with a plan. She thinks if we change your records back to your legal name then no one will recognize you if it’s reported in the papers. Bancroft explained the situation to the president and he agreed to hold off on signing the pardon until the day after Thanksgiving. Most politicians will away from DC for the holiday. The news reporters will be expecting a slow news day and won’t notice it.”

“Why would the president agree to do that? He likes publicity.”

“But he doesn’t like certain high-ranking members of the FBI. He’s read your file. You escaped prison because you were set up by an OPR agent; you were shot by a rogue FBI agent. Maybe he sees this as a way of sticking it to a certain segment of the Justice Department.”

Neal smiled in delight. “And if those high-ranking individuals raise a fuss then that whole business with Fowler will come out and the Feds will end up looking pretty bad.”

“Not to mention the incident with Kramer and his henchman, Collins, who shot you while you had your hands up.” Jones was proud to be an FBI agent and he didn’t like the fact that Kramer and Collins got away with what they did.

“So all I have to do is use my birth name and we can slide under the radar. The only problem with that is I would hate using my father’s name for the rest of my life.”

“Diana thought of that too. After the pardon, you can petition for a legal name change. Since Caffrey will be listed as an alias in your file the judge isn’t likely to deny the request. You won’t need to be Nealon Bennett for long.” Jones enjoyed the look of surprise on Neal’s face. “Yeah, Caffrey, we know your real name is Nealon.”

“How? Did Moz…”

“No, the short guy didn’t tell us. Diana found it searching through census records. June’s lawyer has all the necessary paperwork ready and all you have to do is sign them. Then we process it and make the changes to all your files. In a couple of weeks the president will sign the papers and you should be out a few days after that. If you agree, that is.”

“Mr. Caffrey,” the lawyer interrupted, “I need to explain to you before you make a decision that your acceptance of a pardon carries an imputation of guilt. You would, in effect, be confessing to the crime you were convicted of. You do have the right to decline the pardon.”

“Well, I don’t see any point in denying that I committed the crime. After all, it’s the only crime I’ve ever committed and I got caught.” Neal shook his head with a sad expression on his face. “I guess I wasn’t cut out to be a criminal.”

Jones couldn’t help smiling at that but pressed on with the business at hand. “So you agree to the plan?” Jones hadn’t expected Neal to agree so easily.

“Sure. Where do I sign?”

The lawyer laid out the papers on the table and pulled out a pen for Neal to use. Neal stood up and tried to pick up the pen, but with his hands cuffed and locked to the chain around his waist he couldn’t reach it. The lawyer then placed the pen in Neal’s hand and moved the papers to the edge of the table. 

After Neal signed the papers the lawyer pushed them over for Jones to sign as a witness. Jones finally got the chance to see Neal’s full legal name on the forms. “Your middle name is Daffid?” 

Neal rolled his eyes at the incorrect pronunciation of his name. “It’s pronounced Dah-vith with a hard T H sound at the end, like in the word ‘these’. The F is pronounced as a V sound. It’s a Welsh name. Dafydd.”

“Oh, sorry. I guess I can understand why you picked ‘George’ for a middle name when you created the Caffrey alias.”

“Just sign the papers, Jones.” 

“Right.” Jones signed the papers without further comment and then slid them over to the lawyer. “So, Neal, Peter told me you turned down his offer of a paid-consultant job. I wish you’d reconsider. The office just isn’t the same without you.”

“Your closure rate isn’t the same either, is it?” 

Jones laughed at Neal’s comment and knowing smile. “No, Caffrey, it isn’t. But closure rate aside, we miss you.” Jones stood up and walked over to Neal as the lawyer went to the door to notify the guard that they were done. “It’s good to see you, Neal.” And with that Jones put his arms around Neal and gave him a quick hug. “Come visit us when you get out.”

Neal, surprised by the hug, just nodded and turned as the guard unlocked the door to take him back to his cell. 

********************

“June, what do you think? Neal’s early release means we really have to step up our time-line.”

“I think it’s perfect, but don’t you think we should leave this for him to decide? Buying the art supply store was something he wanted, but he has no idea you’re thinking of buying a house for him. He likes the loft and maybe he wants to keep a little money in savings for a rainy day.”

“I invested some of his money over the years and opened an overseas account for him. He was too young to think about the future and would have spent all of his money if I’d given him his fair share of our ‘earnings’”. June grinned at Mozzie’s use of air-quotes and he said the word ‘earnings’. “Besides, I had a pretty close call a few months back with the Lady Suit investigating my Little Star enterprise. I managed to close down just in time and since then I’ve been quietly liquidating my Teddy Winters assets. I’ve put most of my profits into accounts in the Caymans and Switzerland, but I have enough on hand to help do this for Neal. Think of it as a retirement present for him.”

“It’s a wonderful present, Mozzie. But do you think he’ll like the location? After all, he loves the city. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about living in a village on Long Island.”  


“He won’t be far from the city and this will be close to his art supply business. He can still use the loft at times, can’t he?”

“Of course, he’s always welcome there.” June walked through the house they were inspecting and entered the kitchen. The back door let out onto a deck that was shaded by a lovely Catalpa tree. “It is a lovely little house, Mozzie.”

“It’s also a good investment. If he decides he doesn’t want it he can sell it and buy something else. But I think he’ll like it. He may have spent years as a master criminal but there was always an image of a white-picket-fence in his mind. He said it was what he wanted for Kate, but she would have hated it. No matter what she had, she always wanted more. Neal could never see that though.”

“He’s a romantic young man. I hope someday he finds a woman worthy of his love.”

“I hope so too.” 

June squinted her eyes at Mozzie and wondered at his strange, enigmatic tone. Maybe Mozzie had more plans for Neal than he had told her about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid things might have gotten a little crazy in this chapter. Let me know what you think... Please?


	7. Contrary Winds

'When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.' Peter Marshall

As Neal was escorted back to his cell after the meeting with Jones and June’s lawyer he made up his mind not to get his hopes up too much. It would be better for his state of mind to focus his thoughts on being released in January. He’d rather be pleasantly surprised than greatly disappointed. He wouldn’t even tell Bob about it or discuss it in any letters he wrote. He realized his will would be fighting a battle with his heart. His hopes were already raised and he was afraid if the pardon didn’t happen he would be devastated. But, no matter what happened with the pardon he owed Diana a letter of thanks for her efforts. 

As soon as the cell door closed he went to the small table and began writing a thank-you note to Diana.

_Dear Diana,_

_I hear it was you who discovered my real name. I’m impressed. Could you do me a little favor? Since I’m stuck here for a little while longer would you make sure to gloat a little about it to Peter. I think we can all agree that finding out my real name is far more important than learning my shoe size, and he does love to brag about finding that._

_Whether your efforts pay off or not I want you to know I do appreciate all your work. For now, I’ve decided not to get my hopes up. The hardest part of being in prison is not the rules or the limited mobility; it’s the mental tug-of-war a man has with himself. At least, that’s how it is for me. It’s a balancing act between hoping too much and giving in to hopelessness. I try to focus on the moment and use self-discipline to keep myself from sinking into apathy and depression. I’m afraid that I’ve gotten a little soft since I got a cellmate and it will be like starting over when he leaves in two weeks. He’s not a bad guy and he actually got put in ad-seg for coming to the aid of a guard who was being attacked. For all of my disregard of the law, I do respect honest lawmen, and the fact that Bob, my cellmate, put his life on the line to protect a guard is something I can respect too. But, this is prison…I may respect and like Bob, but I know better than to trust anyone in prison._

_Peter and Jones have both asked me to return to the FBI as a consultant and I have to admit it is tempting. The familiar routine and camaraderie would be comfortable, but I think it’s time for me to move on. Although, for you, I will always be available if you ever need me. Whether you need me to consult on a case or babysit little Theo I will be there. I can sing lullabies in eight languages and I’ve changed diapers on a few occasions._

_I am looking forward to seeing you soon. Thanks again for your help and friendship over the years._

_With love, Neal_

A few days later he received a letter from June and it seemed she understood the mental struggle he must be going through. She made no mention of the possibility of an early release but did give him the news that the purchase of the store was a done deal. She gave a few details about the location and the clientele he could expect. He decided to wait to write her back because he knew she was visiting her family. 

The days passed and soon it was the day of Bob’s release. They said their goodbyes and wished each other luck. Bob was escorted from the cell and the door slammed shut, leaving Neal alone again. He took a few deep breaths and gave himself a lecture on the importance of determination and strength of will. He could do this.

It had only been a few hours since Bob had been released and Neal was feeling a little lonely. He told himself he was being silly. After all, it wasn’t like he and Bob had really been friends. But, it had been good to have someone to talk to. He paced for a few minutes and then grabbed his racketball, laid on the bed and started tossing it in the air. 

If what Jones and the lawyer had told him was true he might be out of here in a week or two. And then what? Then what? 

Neal caught the ball and held it for a moment before sitting up and grabbing the letter June had written. He scanned through it to find the part where she’d told him about the art store he now owned. 

_The store, which is named Morgan’s Art Supply, is located in a small village on Long Island near the beach. Dante thinks you might consider changing the name of the store, as the current name does lack creativity. It has been in business for thirty-one years and the owner, Mr. Morgan, decided it was time to retire. He has agreed to stay on until March to help get you established and that will give you time to decide what changes you might like to make. Maybe you could rearrange the store a little to make a space to exhibit some of your own work._

He would like to exhibit his own paintings. They might not sell for a lot of money but he didn’t paint them for money. He painted for the pure joy of it. If someone else appreciated his work he’d take any price they offered. 

But a village on Long Island? What had Mozzie been thinking? Neal loved the city. Still…Long Island wasn’t far from New York City. He could commute. Or he could get a place to live on Long Island. Maybe some distance from the city would be good. After all, his favorite section of New York had been his prison for the last three years. Sure, it was a nice prison, but it was a prison just the same. And he had a feeling that if he lived at June’s Peter would be dropping by frequently to check on him. He wondered if Mozzie had thought of finding him a place to live near the art store and if he could afford to live on Long Island. He laughed and shook his head. He had suspected that Mozzie was holding back some of the profits from their exploits over the years. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that he had off-shore accounts in his real name, thanks to Moz. 

Too many thoughts were running through his head. He needed to stop thinking about the future. He had to take one day at a time or he’d drive himself crazy.

He began pacing around his cell. During the time Bob was here he had neglected his exercise routines. Appendicitis had put a stop to his cat-burglar workout but the doctor had cleared him for normal activity at his follow-up appointment a few days ago. It was time to get back in shape. He modified and shortened his workout to allow for the effects of his recent inactivity. 

After his short workout, he stood in the middle of his cell and took a deep calming breath. He got through three months in here just fine before they put Bob in with him. He could do this. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. Softly, he started to sing:

 _Pretend you're happy when you're blue_  
_It isn't very hard to do_  
_And you'll find happiness without an end_  
_Whenever you pretend_

 _Remember anyone can dream_  
_And nothing's bad as it may seem_  
_The little things you haven't got_  
_Could be a lot if you pretend_

 _You'll find a love you can share_  
_One you can call all your own_  
_Just close your eyes, she'll be there_  
_You'll never be alone_

 _And if you sing this melody_  
_You'll be pretending just like me_  
_The world is mine, it can be yours, my friend_  
_So why don't you pretend?_

 _And if you sing this melody_  
_You'll be pretending just like me_  
_The world is mine, it can be yours, my friend_  
_So why don't you pretend?_

He smiled as he walked a few steps to where he kept his racket balls and picked them up. He returned to the center of his cell and began juggling. “Fake it till you make it,” he said aloud to himself. 

**********************

Neal was glad that he had been able to stock up on commissary supplies before his records were officially changed to his real name. The unusual situation had caused confusion and, as a result, he was unable to place his weekly commissary order and his mail was held up for several days. When his mail was delivered the day before Thanksgiving he had letters from nearly all of his friends.

June’s letter scolded him for not writing to her when while she was visiting her daughter. Elizabeth wrote and invited him for a big Thanksgiving-style dinner as soon as he got home to New York. Diana’s letter was filled with stories about trying to adapt to life as a working mother. She also thanked him for his offer to babysit and seemed like she would actually allow him to take care of her son occasionally. Jones sent another card with a brief note of encouragement and yet another job offer.

Of all the letters he received that day, the one from Peter was the most interesting:

_Neal,_

_I hope you are doing well. I’m confident that your pardon will go through and you’ll be home before you know it. Elizabeth is planning a big celebration dinner for your return. All the fancy stuff you like plus some good old-fashioned comfort food. All you have to do is let us know when you’re ready for it._

_I have some news for you that I don’t want to wait to tell you. I’m going to be retiring in April. I’ve got a new job lined up with a former colleague who now owns his own security company. He designs and installs security systems and he’s done work in some of your favorite museums. Before I start the new job I’m going to take Elizabeth to Paris for a vacation, so I’d appreciate any suggestions you might have about what to do there. And I can see the smile on your face from here; I can assure you we won’t spend all of our time sight-seeing. I may not be the romantic man that you are but I’m not totally clueless either._

_Anyway, since I won’t be at the FBI after April I thought you might reconsider taking the job as a consultant. Think about it. I’m sure Jones will be more than happy to have you on his team._

_So, here’s what I really want to say…you were the best partner I ever had. You did good work for us and we miss you. I miss you. Sometimes I look out of my office window and think I catch a glimpse of you at your desk throwing that ball of yours in the air. I miss you, Neal, and I hope to see you soon._

_Peter_

Neal had told himself, and Peter, that he didn’t want to work for Peter anymore. But the thought of working for the bureau without Peter held little appeal. He respected all of the members of Peter’s team but none of them challenged him on an intellectual level the way Peter did. Still, he appreciated that they would want to work with him and it was a good back-up plan if the art store venture didn’t work out. It was always good to have options.

***

Thanksgiving Day in prison was much the same as any other day for Neal. In other parts of the prison, there was probably an impromptu potluck underway. During his previous stint in prison Neal had actually enjoyed the holiday. Now, in ad-seg, he had to make do with what was shoved through the bean-slot. As far as prison food went it wasn’t too bad. 

***

The big day was here; the day after Thanksgiving. Neal wondered if he’d hear anything about the pardon or if he’d have to wait several days for the paperwork to be processed. He sighed and grabbed a book. Maybe reading would keep his mind occupied. An hour later he had no idea what the book in his hands was about. He tossed it aside and started pacing. He knew if the pardon was signed he’d still have to wait a few days for his release, but couldn’t they let him know one way or the other? 

He spent the weekend having second thoughts and re-weighing his options. He could go back to the FBI; it would be comfortable and familiar. He could work at the art store full-time and find a place to live on Long Island, or he could commute. In all the years since he left home, he’d never had a problem cutting ties with anyplace or anyone, aside from Mozzie. Why was he so hesitant to move on now? Because New York was home and his friends were his family, that’s what made it so difficult. But leaving the city wasn’t the same as leaving it behind. Moving away from his friends didn’t have to mean never seeing them again. He wasn’t a criminal on the run anymore. Starting a new life didn’t mean he had to burn his old life. That was part of the reason he had wanted to finish his sentence in prison; to start over with a clean slate.

Finally, Sunday night as he lay on his bed he found the peace of mind he’d never truly had before. He slept better than he had in months. Whatever happened in the coming days he was ready for it. 

****************

Monday morning after breakfast a guard pounded on his cell door. He was taken to meet with the unit team and was told the pardon had been granted and he would be released at midnight. It seemed like there was an endless stack of paperwork to read and sign. When that was done he was taken to have a discharge physical. Next, he was taken to receiving, where he was given a temporary ID card, his clothes, and a debit card for the balance of his commissary account. 

He was then asked if he needed to make travel arrangements. His release was rather sudden and he didn’t think it was likely that any of his friends could be there in time. Mozzie hated flying because of the TSA security regulations. But Neal really hated the thought of taking a bus to New York. 

“Do you want to call someone and see if you can get a ride?”

Neal sighed. The only one he could call was Peter and he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Peter picking him up from prison again. Would Peter drop everything and fly to Indiana to get him? “I guess I could try to call someone.” 

The clerk shoved a phone across the counter for him to use and he dialed Peter’s number.

“This is Burke.”

“Hey, Peter. They’re letting me out tonight and I need to make some kind of travel arrangements. I was wondering…I know it’s a lot to ask, but…”

“Neal, when we heard the pardon was signed we called June and she said Haversham was going to pick you up. He’s already in Terre Haute waiting to hear from us. I’ll call him and let him know he can pick you up tonight. What time are they letting you out?”

“Midnight.”

“Why midnight?”

“I don’t know. Some weird prison thing I guess.”

“Ok, I’ll let him know and he’ll be there to pick you up.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Neal said goodbye and pushed the phone back across the counter. He was escorted back to his cell to wait. He changed his clothes and cleaned his cell. The only thing he wanted to take with him was his letters so he gathered them together. He would donate his books to the prison library. Thirty minutes after returning to his cell he was ready to go. It was only nine-thirty in the morning. Only fourteen-and-a-half hours before his release. He sat down on his bunk and grabbed some chips. He might as well eat his snacks up while he waited. 

He snacked, he napped, he sang a few songs. The hours dragged by. He refused the lunch they brought in favor of a prison burrito made with his ramen noodles and corn chips. For dinner, he ate a bagel with peanut butter. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was time. He was escorted from his cell and taken to be processed out. He was fingerprinted and signed a few papers and it was over. 

A guard drove him to the front gate where Mozzie was waiting to pick him up. Neal walked through the gate and went around to the passenger side of the Ford Explorer. It was a cold night and Neal felt flakes of snow blow against his face. He climbed in and fastened his seatbelt. 

“Welcome back, Neal.”

“Thanks, Moz.”

Mozzie drove as Neal stared out the window at the prison. “Do you still think going back to prison was the right decision, mon frère?”

Neal didn’t answer until the prison was out of sight. “I have a quote for you, Moz. Frank Abagnale said, ‘I was an opportunist and got away with things because I was very young, but I went to prison and came out and remade my life.’”

“He remade his life working as a consultant with the FBI.”

“He did. And I remade my life when I left the FBI to go back to prison. It was the right decision, Moz. My life is my own now.” 

Both men were silent for a time and Neal stared out the window into the night. When Neal eventually looked over at Mozzie he asked, “Where are we going, Moz?”

Mozzie smiled as he answered, “‘You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go…'” 

“You’re quoting Dr. Seuss now, Moz?”

“I’ve been reading Seuss books to Baby-Suit and the quote seemed to fit. Although, you need to remember that you’re not on your own. And, if I may make a suggestion, perhaps your first destination should be to the hotel for a shower. You smell a little…um…”

Neal laughed and nodded in agreement. “A long, hot shower to wash the prison-funk smell off sounds like an excellent idea.” 

Neal did take a long, hot shower. After he toweled himself dry he dropped the towel and stepped back into the shower and took another. He emerged from the bathroom wearing the clean clothes that Mozzie had brought for him. “Hey, Moz?”

“Yeah, Neal?”

“When do we need to be back in New York?”

“June is planning a champagne brunch on Sunday to celebrate your release. Why?”

“I was thinking…I don’t remember the last time I had a real vacation. You know, a vacation that didn’t involve a fear of getting caught. What would you say to some sight-seeing on the way home? We could just head that-a-way.” Neal pointed toward the east in a sweeping motion.

“Your wish is my command, mon frère. Do you want some sleep first? It’s only one-thirty in the morning.”

“Nah, I napped quite a bit today to keep myself from going crazy while I waited. I don’t need sleep; I need food. Bacon, eggs, pancakes…Is there an all-night restaurant around here?”

“There is.” Mozzie stood and put on his coat. “I took the liberty of packing your clothes already. All you need to do is grab your toiletries and we can take off.”

“Thanks, Moz.”

“No need to thank me, Neal. As Dr. Seuss once said, ‘To the world, you may be one person; but to one person you may be the world.’” Mozzie took off his glasses, cleaned them and then put them back on. He picked up his bags and headed for the door. 

Neal followed with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. “As Shannon Alder said, ‘All great beginnings start in the dark when the moon greets you to a new day at midnight.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Neal sings is 'Pretend' which was recorded by Nat King Cole. 
> 
> As I was re-reading this story to check for continuity I noticed that I aged Peter while I left Neal the same age as he was in the series. I did a little editing to fix that. FBI agents can retire at fifty years of age if they have twenty years of service so I'm still letting him retire. I really think he would be bored working a desk job all day. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be an epilogue to the story.


	8. Grooves of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happy ending epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had other ideas of how this chapter should go but, as usual, things change. I do most of my story planning while I'm at work, and work has gotten a little crazy lately with the pandemic and all. Working with people wearing masks all day I guess it's not surprising that current events crept into Neal's life. (oops, I should mention that I can do my job and daydream at the same time. No goofing off involved.)
> 
> My original title for this chapter was 'Tranquility Base' from the Neil Armstrong quote: "Houston, Tranquillity Base here. The Eagle has landed." The chapter was going to be about a growing relationship between Neal and Sophie Covington from the season four episode 'Parting Shots". 
> 
> This chapter happened instead. I hope you like it.

"Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change."  
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Neal relaxed at his kitchen table with a cup of Italian roast coffee. The newspaper lay next to him, unopened. He took a sip of coffee and sighed with contentment. Today was his birthday…sort of. It was March twenty-first; the date he had used when he created the Caffrey alias all those years ago. Now, of course, he used his real birthday with the now-legal Caffrey name. But after so many years he couldn’t help thinking of this as his birthday. 

There had been so many changes in his life since he got out of prison three-and-a-half months ago. He had been almost overwhelmed at times. He’d gone from being an imprisoned criminal to being a business owner and a homeowner. 

He got up from the table and walked over to the counter and put a bagel in the toaster. He leaned on the counter and looked out the window while he waited for the bagel. He’d been prepared for being a business owner. June had written to him about that while he was in prison. But Mozzie, as always, had been full of surprises. 

His bagel popped up and he smeared it with cream cheese while he continued to ponder the recent changes in his life. He looked around his little kitchen and thought about the first time he had seen it. Mozzie had led him to believe that he was thinking of buying the place as another safe-house and wanted Neal’s opinion. Neal had looked around the cottage and felt a pang of envy. It was a wonderfully peaceful place on a quiet street. Neal smiled as he remembered the conversation.

~~~

_“It’s great, Moz, but it’s not really safe-house material, is it? This looks like a friendly neighborhood. Friendly neighbors will notice too many things.”_

_“True. But what if I’m not looking for a place for myself? Is this the kind of place you would want to live in?”_

_“Me? Well, sure…but I don’t think I could afford a place like this yet. This is Long Island; even though this is a small cottage it can’t be cheap.” Neal wandered from the kitchen back into the living room and opened the sliding glass door that led out to an enclosed sunroom._

_Mozzie followed him into the sunroom and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. “Neal, sit down and relax for a minute.” Mozzie smiled at the slightly confused look on Neal’s face as he complied with Mozzie’s request._

_“What’s up, Moz?”_

_“Neal, you’ve acquired a lot of valuable items over the years, and you trusted me to handle most of the financial transactions connected with the sale of those items. In addition to the things you acquired there was also the matter of the Nazi treasure.”_

_“Mozzie…what did you do?”_

_“Over the years I set up some overseas accounts for you. Recently I fenced some of the remaining items from the U-boat treasure. Nothing that had been owned by private citizens, of course. But most of the stuff in the treasure was stolen from museums, so I figured that was fair game. I made sure none of the stuff I fenced can be traced back to you, Neal.”_

_Neal shrugged and gave Moz a smile. “I do fully intend to go straight now that I’ve finished my sentence. But, the treasure is part of the past and there’s no point crying over spilled milk. So…you set aside money for me from our previous ventures and fenced some of the U-boat stuff. Are you saying I can afford this place?”_

_“I’m saying you already own it. I used the power-of-attorney you gave me and bought it on your behalf. But, if you don’t want it you can sell it.”_

_“I want it.” Neal sat back in his chair and grinned at Mozzie. “You’re an amazing friend, Moz. You’ve done so much for me over the years.”_

_Mozzie nodded in agreement. “It was a good partnership, Neal. You were the best front-man anyone could have and I did my best to support you behind the scenes. I know you’re going straight now and I want to do all I can to support that decision.” Mozzie stood up, suddenly uncomfortable with the sentimental direction of the conversation. “We should get back to your store. We have all of that new stock to put out.”_

_Neal had followed Mozzie out of the house totally unprepared for the next surprise his friend had planned._

~

The ringing of his cell phone brought Neal's thoughts back to the present. He checked the caller ID and tapped the ‘accept’ icon. “Peter, good morning. How are you and Elizabeth doing?”

“We’re good. I’m working from home and Elizabeth is doing an early Spring cleaning while we’re ‘self-isolating’. I’m starting to second-guess my second thoughts about retiring. If Jones hadn’t transferred to the Philadelphia office I would still be looking forward to retiring next week.”

“I think you made the right decision. You’re the best FBI agent I’ve ever met and you’d be wasting your talents working for a private security company.”

“Thanks, Neal. I guess I have you to thank for keeping me on top of my game; first by chasing you and then by working with you. But, I didn’t call to talk about my job. I called to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Thank you, but you do know my birthday is in August, right?” Neal got up from the table and poured himself another cup of coffee and stopped to push Miss Kitty Marie off of the refrigerator. “You’re a beautiful baby…yes you are…get down from there…that’s a good baby.”

“Neal? Who are you talking to?”

“My cat, Peter. Did I forget to tell you I got a cat last week?”

“I’m sure I’d remember hearing about Miss Kitty. I’m glad you have a cat to keep you company right now. Being cooped up in your house on your birthday can’t be much fun. Yes, I know it’s not your real birthday, but it’s the one celebrate, isn’t it? Besides, you spent your real birthday in prison and now you’re basically locked up for this birthday too.”

“Peter, you didn’t just compare staying home because of a pandemic to being locked up in prison, did you?” Neal carried his coffee into the living room and sat down in his favorite chair. “This is nothing like prison. I can sleep when I want here without having someone check on me every half-hour. I can sit on the toilet without wondering when the guard is going to come by and check on me. I’m eating good food and sleeping in a comfortable bed. I have Italian roast, Peter. I do miss working at the store and talking to people but this is still so much better than prison. Really, Peter, you’ve spent time in the graybar hotel. You know this isn’t that bad.” Neal very seldom mentioned Peter’s time in prison because of the strain it had put on their friendship. 

“Greybar hotel?” Peter chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. This is better than prison. Although, at least in prison I never had to worry about running out of toilet paper. I understand people stocking up on food but I don’t understand the panic buying of toilet paper.”

“Once the panic starts it’s hard to stop. People seem to forget that it wasn’t that long ago that the pioneers were using old rags to wipe with and then washing the rags out by hand to re-use.”

“I don’t know,” Peter said and then laughed. “Maybe they do remember that and that’s why they are scared to run out of paper. Anyway, we’ve got enough TP and food for a while. Do you have enough supplies?”

“Sure. When Mozzie first heard reports about the virus he started stocking up for me. I thought it was just the usual Mozzie paranoia but I let him go ahead. He built shelves in the basement and filled them up. I’ve got enough food, toilet paper, and cleaning supplies to last for two years.”

“That sounds like Mozzie. Where is he holed-up these days?”

“I’m not sure of the exact location of his bunker, but I know he’s well outside of the city. I haven’t seen him since early in February. He calls nearly every day to check on me though. He says he’s fine.”

“That’s good. Sooo…any other news besides Miss Kitty?”

“Why do you have that suspicious tone in your voice? I haven’t committed any crimes if that’s what you’re hinting at.” Neal tried to keep his tone light but a bit of annoyance might have crept in.

“No, Neal, that’s not what I was hinting at. I just thought…well, you’ve been out for a few months and I wondered if you’d talked to Sara.”

“No, I haven’t talked to her. There’s no reason to talk to Sara. She knew I was in prison and the fact that she never bothered to write sent a pretty clear message.”

“Neal, I’m sorry. I thought you two were good together.”

“We were for a time. But we want different things in life. I’m ready to settle down and that’s not something Sara was ever interested in. It’s kind of funny though, isn’t it? The convicted criminal wants to settle down while the insurance investigator wants excitement and career advancement.”

“I’m sorry, Neal. But it’ll happen for you someday.”

“Hmm. It’s…maybe.” Neal sighed. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to talk about his love life to anyone until things were more settled but maybe it would be good to tell Peter. Neal knew he could count on Peter to tell him if he was making a huge mistake. “Peter, I have been dating someone recently.” 

“How recently?”

“It started in early December. Let me start from the beginning. It was just a few weeks after I got home and Mozzie and I were working in the store setting up a display of art books and supplies for kids. You know how I feel about encouraging artistic expression in children. Anyway, I was working when the door opened and I heard a customer walk in. I turned to greet her and she said…”

~~~

_“Mister Armstrong, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”_

_Neal smiled at Sophie Covington and said, “please, call me Neal. Or, if you insist on formality you can call me Mr. Caffrey. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Sophie. What brings you into my store?”_

_“I was in here a few weeks ago looking for some gifts for my neighbor’s children and that gentleman,” she said as she nodded towards Mozzie, “said the new owner would have some new items for children in stock soon. He asked for my address and said he’d send me a postcard when the new things arrived. I got a postcard yesterday. I wasn’t aware it was your store.”_

_“My attorney and friend bought the store on my behalf while I was in prison. Now that I’ve served my time I’m here to stay.”_

~~~

“You told her about being in prison in the first two minutes? Wasn’t that taking a chance?”

“Considering the fact that our first encounter was based on a lie I thought it was best to be brutally honest this time. I hated lying to her before.”

“You did it to protect her at the request of the FBI. It was a sanctioned lie.”

“It was a lie, Peter, and she deserves the truth. I told her about going back to prison and she asked me on a date. We went to dinner and we’ve been dating since then. She sold her house in the city and moved to the Hamptons. When she came into the store the first time Mozzie recognized her and decided to play match-maker.”

“I’m happy for you, Neal. She seems like a nice lady. I hope it works out for you two.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

“When we get through this pandemic we would like you to bring her over for dinner. We’ll celebrate this birthday late or your real one early.”

“Nick Halden’s birthday is in April. Or we could celebrate Steve Tabernacle’s in May…”

“Or we could get together for no other reason than that we are friends and we enjoy each other’s company.”

“There’s always that.” Neal paused a moment and then asked, “Do you think Sophie and a guy like me could work out?”

“A guy like you, Neal? A kind-hearted, generous, thoughtful, intelligent, smart-aleck, pain-in-the-butt kind of guy? Yes, Neal, I think she’d be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” Neal said with a note of uncertainty in his voice and then he laughed. “Thanks for calling, Peter.”

“Have a happy birthday, Neal. As soon as this pandemic is over I’ll see if I can find a bank that needs it’s security tested.”

“Now there’s the kind of birthday present I like, Butch.”

“Take care of yourself, Sundance.”

Neal disconnected the call with a smile on his face. If he could go back and live his life over again which of his mistakes or misdeeds would he not commit? Every mistake and crime he’d committed had led him to this moment and he wouldn’t trade this moment for all the riches in the world.


End file.
